


Laughter is the Best Medicine

by OllyOllyOxenFree



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gender open to interpretation, Minor Violence, Other tags will be added eventually, Reader Is Not Frisk, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 216,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyOllyOxenFree/pseuds/OllyOllyOxenFree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your hands grip the steering wheel just a bit tighter, the hum of the road beneath your tires a noxious lullaby. Damn, it’s been such a long day of driving. By the end of the three days, you were very much ready to just be back in your apartment and spring into the waiting arms of your bed. Who knows what the coming days will bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Digits

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first EVER fanfic. I've only ever written research papers so I hope y'all enjoy it! Suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Your hands grip the steering wheel just a bit tighter, the hum of the road beneath your tires a noxious lullaby. Damn, it’s been such a long day of driving. While an interesting art history conference, it was pretty run-of-the-mill and more often than not bone-dry. By the end of the these three days, you are very much ready to just be back in your apartment and spring into the waiting arms of your bed. Not to mention the conference itself was more than 5 hours away in the next city over, so you had been driving for much longer than you were comfortable with, especially at this time of night.

Especially on this stretch of road.

Especially while listening to classical music.

Why you didn’t switch the song earlier, you have no idea, blaming it on the exhaustion and your foggy attention. You give a sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest, almost in defeat. The music eventually fades and you patiently wait for the next song to come on your phone. You give silent thanks to the little metal block of music that is your saving grace from the hells of popular radio and whatever stations they play in Bumfuck, Nowhere.

**BOOMF BOOMF BOOMF BOOMF**

The familiar beat peels your tired eyes from the dark stretch of road ahead of you. The forest on either side creates a black tunnel; while a beautiful sight during the daylight, the rapidly passing tree line forms an imposing wall at night that not even your headlights, nor the few behind you, can penetrate. Highway hypnosis is a real thing and right now it’s got you deep in its clutches. You blink and look down groggily at your phone to see what’s come on next in your playlist.

Oh HELL yeah.

The retro beat complicates, whips, and unfolds and the synth rhythms slide in, building and stirring you out from your pseudo-slumber. You begin to sway in your seat and bob your head. As the song goes along, you begin to sing along with the lyrics, your voice rough and a little scratchy from disuse. But you find it gets stronger and more confident the more you use it, and soon you start belting out the lyrics dramatically, pointing and singing to your invisible yet obviously enamored audience, your dance moves reflecting the excitement you feel now. And finally, when the song comes to the chorus you yell along:

**Because I know, know, know up is the only way! The only way, the only way out!**

**Because I know, know, know up is the only way! The only way, the only way out!**

As the music hits its height, you laugh and bring up your right arm and begin pumping your fist in the air, whooping all the while, in a way you would never dare to do in public…. Unless alcohol was involved.

Unbeknownst to you, your passionate, and now truly wakeful, display provides a much needed source of humor to the inhabitants of the red sports car behind you.

\------------

“Hey Sans…. Sans. SANS. WAKE UP SANS!” A short skeleton in a blue hoodie, black gym shorts and slippers is mildly startled from sleep by his tall, and clearly intrigued, brother driving the sleek red car.

“huh?” he yawns, “what’s up bro?”

Papyrus tilts his head and points out past the front window. “Look at that strange human in the car in front of us! It looks like…they are PUNCHING THE AIR! Why would they do that, Sans? Surely they can’t be training.” He mimics the movement and gives an experimental punch in the air for emphasis.

Curious, Sans leans forward a little and looks out towards the truck ahead of them. Squinting a bit, he can just make out a form rocking back and forth to a muffled beat and, indeed, punching the air with their fist.

He chuckles a bit at the enthusiastic movements and replies, “nah, i think they’re listenin’ to some sweet jams. seems like they know how to have a good time. and they’ve got good rhythm, that fist punching is right on beat.”

Papyrus throws back his head and groans loudly, “UGH SANS THAT WAS BAD EVEN FOR YOU.”

“yeah, well, i did just wake up bro.” Sans had taken the first shift in driving back, but Papyrus relieved him not too long ago as Sans became more and more tired. Smiling slightly wider than his ever-present grin, Sans leans once more back into the seat, slouching down to tuck his chin back under the lip of his hoodie.

Sans and Papyrus had just come from visiting their friends in the city over. They were helping them with the final moving arrangements so that, hopefully in a week or so, they would all be moving to where the skeleton brothers lived now. Undyne and Alphys already lived in the same town with San and Papyrus, but Toriel, Frisk, and Asgore (among others) had yet to relocate. The knowledge that his friends would all be together again gives Sans a warm feeling, and he knows Papyrus is ecstatic for the move as well, which in turn buoys Sans. Soon they would be back home, he’d resume doing nothing and be able to, for the most part, sleep normally in his own bed again.

Relaxing, with fatigue threading through his bones, Sans slowly begins to slip back into sweet slumber. His eye-lights start to dim and his lids feel heavy when he catches a sudden glimpse of color out of the corner of his eye to the left. A bad feeling shoots through his bones into his soul, and, jerking awake, Sans sees a streak of brown and white dart across the road in front of the truck ahead of them, contrasting starkly against the dark green, blue, and black background.

He tenses and grabs the side of the door as he hears Papyrus gasp, witnessing the same scene. Panicked, Sans yells, “papyrus, watch out!”

The deer, animal, WHATEVER it is makes a beeline straight in front of the truck and it's clear in that moment that the driver sees it as well but is too close to avoid. Sans and Papyrus, eyes wide in horror, watch the truck attempt to swerve to the right, but it loses control in doing so, tipping over and rolling down the side of the highway towards the tree line.

It happened so fast at first, but to Sans, everything starts to play in slow motion, moving at an agonizing crawl.

In reality, the truck almost impossibly keeps sliding and rolling at a dangerously fast pace, tearing up the ground and snapping smaller saplings. They seem to slow its progress incrementally, with Sans hoping it would be enough to keep the crash from fatally hurting the person inside. However, the truck slams with a sickening thud into a larger tree, a sound that resonates deep within Sans and Papyrus, causing both brothers to flinch. The truck recoils slightly from the impact and finally halts its destructive journey.

Having significantly slowed down in anticipation of the crash, Papyrus yells with fear in his voice, “SANS, WE HAVE TO HELP THEM! WE CANNOT JUST LEAVE THEM THERE! THEY COULD BE VERY INJURED!”

Or worse Sans thinks to himself.

Having recovered somewhat from the shock of seeing thousands of pounds of metal being tossed around like a doll, Sans nods and grunts a shaky reply, “can’t agree more, pap.”

Papyrus follows the wake the truck left behind, riding along the shoulder, and coming to a halt just before the truck’s resting place, aiming the headlights down the slope. As they hurriedly get out of the car, Sans tells Papyrus to call the police and tell them where they are. Sans tries to navigate the decline as fast as possible, stumbling a bit before he approaches the wreckage. Out of breath and soul thumping uncomfortably in his chest, he scans the truck. It’s awkwardly right side up, but leaning in odd ways, as the front left tire is completely gone, and the frame of the passenger side is warped around the trunk of the tree. Smoke billows from the front.

A morbid thought crosses Sans mind, that had anyone been in the passenger side, they surely would not have made it. He dismisses it though and tries to focus on what needs to be done. The tan paint has been stripped from the dented body and glass from broken windows litters the ground. As Sans looks over the truck, Papyrus comes bounding up behind Sans.

“I have called the human police force and they should be arriving shortly! We must get the human out as soon as we can brother!”

Papyrus and Sans hustle towards the passenger door and Papyrus calls out a tentative, “HUMAN? HUMAN! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” No answer. Sans peers in through the shattered window and sees them. They are slumped forward against a taut seatbelt, hair partially obscuring their face, but Sans can make out that they have blood, too much blood, covering the right side of their face. Their right arm hangs at a disturbing angle from their body.

Sans says, “paps, we need to open the door and try to get them out of the seat, but be careful of their arm. i think it’s broken.”

Papyrus nods and tries the door handle, but seemingly crushed in the crash, does not open. Sans’ left eye immediately flares blue and yellow and he raises his hand towards the door, enveloping it in a blue glow. Making a grasping motion with his hand, the metal in the door groans its resistance, then loudly screeches as Sans rips it from its frame, placing it on the ground behind him and his brother.

Papyrus leans into the truck and his hands flit cautiously about the human’s body.

“Oh human….”

He finds where the seatbelt latches, wrenches it loose, and gently keeps the body from collapsing. Sans anxiously watches Papyrus slide his arms underneath their legs and along their back, gingerly lifting them from the seat and cradling them to his chest. They both back a safe distance away from the wreck and drop to their knees, lowering the human to the ground. Papyrus and Sans spare a brief glance at each other, worry reflected in each other’s eyes. Sans hasn’t heard anything from the human or seen them move, but as soon as they are placed on the ground, they begin to stir slightly and groan. Both brothers start at the noise and lean over the human. Sans searches their face, grimacing at the various cuts and gashes on their body, the amount of blood covering their face and hair and, still, the odd angle of their arm.

Sans moves a little closer, “hey pal, can you hear us? we called for help, just hang on.”

Papyrus chimes in, “Yes human! You will be alright, as my brother and I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, have saved you from your unfortunate accident!”

Sans hears the distant sound of emergency vehicles and can make out the red, blue, and yellow-ish lights in the darkness down the road, saying to Papyrus, “look paps, help is almost here.” Papyrus visibly relaxes somewhat. They are answered with another soft moan and Sans sees their left eye open slightly. Their hazy, unfocused gaze meets Sans’ worried and cautious one as they part their mouth, straining to say something. Sans gives a sharp intake and grasps Papyrus’ arm.

“kid? hey, can you speak?”

Both lean in even closer and barely make out the words “th-…than..k” before the human falls unconscious again.

\-----------

**Beep Beep Beep Beep**

**dripdripdripdripdrip**

Everything is black.

It almost feels like you're floating, disconnected from your body. It's kinda nice. Peaceful.

But that doen’t last too long.

A pinpoint of feeling, bright and hot begins to poke through the dense fog in your mind. As indeterminate moments pass by, it grows stronger, and coupled with the repetitive sounds in the background, it rudely forces you to react and open your eyes.

You are greeted by several things. First, and arguably the worst, is the obtrusive fluorescence of hospital lights. You groan and close your eyes again so they can adjust to the harsh brightness, silently wishing you could just keep sleeping. But you sigh and open them, the pain you felt earlier growing now that you are conscious, both in your head and your right arm, which you realize is resting at your side in a stiff cast. Your eyes move lethargically around the room and come to rest on the second thing, or rather, pair of things.

Skeletons.

The tallest one is standing impressively, arms crossed, in front of the window, looking out on the buildings below with a pensive expression. He has some sort of armor on with a red well-worn scarf (or cape?) ruffling slightly around his neck and down his back. You glance at the other skeleton leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and hands in his hoodie pockets. He’s a fair bit shorter comparatively, but what you’d describe as stocky, with a blue hoodie, black gym shorts, and slippers and a wide smile across his face.

Eyes widening, you blink again to make sure you’re not in some fever dream caused by the crash. It’s not that seeing monsters is odd. They’ve been on the surface for about a year or so. But really, seeing anyone you don’t recognize after waking up in a hospital is bound to be disconcerting. You faintly remember white faces sometime after the events of the crash, but it’s extremely hazy and you’re sure you were not altogether coherent. When they are still there, you croak out a soft, “Hello?”

Both skeletons jump at the sound of your voice and immediately approach you. The taller skeleton, a touch of worry crossing his face, moves closer to your bedside. The shorter comes towards you as well but hangs back a bit, the grin on his face betrayed by looking slightly more cautious than the taller one.

Sans sees the confusion on your face and admits to himself that he’d be pretty confused too. But something old, protective, and world-weary inside of him makes him wait to see how you would truly react to him and his brother. He also admits you look a hell of a lot better cleaned up without all the blood.

“Human! You are awake, that is very good! You were in a very serious crash, but you are safe now,” the tall skeleton whisper-shouts, concerned eyes taking in your injuries and seemingly holding himself back from yelling. His response was loud enough still to make you feel the headache that was rapidly approaching, but the care he felt was obvious in his voice and it warmed your heart and eased your anxiety.

Your brow furrows and you respond, swallowing hard, “I saw…after the crash. It was you…both of you, wasn’t it? You were the ones who got me out?”

Happiness crosses the taller skeleton’s features and Sans nods. “YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, and my brother Sans helped you after your accident!”

Papyrus and Sans. Those were their names; the ones you basically owe your life to. Small tears well up in your eyes and silently fall down your cheeks. You say to them, “Thank you…thank you so much. I can’t…can’t even begin to repay you for what you did. Who knows what would’ve happened, i-if….” You can’t finish. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop its trembling.

Sans’ smile and posture relaxes at your response, as if he was waiting for it, and he looks at you, “no problem, pal. couldn’t’ve just left ya there. we’re not monsters,” giving you a sly wink, and you smile at the kindness in his deep voice.

Papyrus, on the other hand, seems taken aback at your tears, causing him to worry even more and move right to you.

“PLEASE DON’T CRY HUMAN! We did what we hope someone would do for us! We had to help!”

You take his hand in your left and give it a slight squeeze, “of course, Papyrus. I’m just happy that you were there. I would’ve done the same for you both.”

His eyes widen and he yells, “WOWIE! Does this mean we can be friends?!”

Sans chuckles low under his breath and you give a decent laugh, “Hell yeah Papyrus. I’d love to be friends. My name is ___, by the way.”

Papyrus looks overjoyed and goes to hug you, but thinks better of it at the last second, not wanting to hurt you. Instead he paces quickly around the room with his fists in the air.

You giggle quietly, but grimace at the mounting pain. Sans moves to take his brother’s place beside your bed.

“hurting?”

“Yeah, my head is killing me, or at least trying to. My arm isn’t doing so hot either. Too bad it wasn’t my left one, at least then I’d be alright.” You lean back and give Sans a sideways glance.

He turns his head and stares at you, eye sockets wide and eye lights bright with impending mirth.

“did you just…?”

“Oh, I just.”

He gives a hearty laugh and you join him saying, “I can’t say I was clever enough to come up with that one myself, I just really love Arrested Development.”

In between laughs, Sans says, “anyone who can appreciate a good pun is a friend in my book.”

With a bit more seriousness, but still smiling, you reply, “Though I do wish it was my other arm since I’m right-handed. At least my fingers aren’t broken,” unconsciously wiggling the fingers of your right hand.

He continues to chuckle and presses the call button for the nurse for you.

“i’m sure you’ll figure it out pretty quick. and if ya need help, paps and i won’t let ya get left behind,” punctuating his word play with another wink.

You open your mouth in a grin that lights up your face at the same moment Papyrus stops in his tracks and points an accusing finger at Sans.

“SANS DON’T YOU DARE CORRUPT OUR NEW FRIEND.”

Sans shrugs his shoulders and you give a tired but genuine laugh again at the exchange as the nurse comes into the room. Sans steps back against the wall again and lets the nurse check your vitals. She asks you how you feel and adjusts your pain meds. As she is leaning over you getting everything situated, she gives you a kind smile and says to you, “You’re very lucky they found you. It could have been much worse.”

You glance at the brothers who are chatting in the corner and flash a small smile back at her. “Yeah, I really am.”

Once she leaves you call out to Sans and Papyrus a little nervously and they come back over, curious. “Hey, uh…if you want, I’d like to give you my phone number, just in case you ever need anything. And I mean anything. Oh! And also if you wanna hang out or…whatever sometime?”

“OF COURSE HUMAN! THAT WOULD BE WONDERFUL! WE WILL HAVE SO MUCH FUN AND I SHALL MAKE FOR YOU BEST FRIEND SPAGHETTI!”

“sounds great to me, pal.”

Happiness swells in your chest. Relax, be cool, be cool. Which was beginning to become a little easier now that the meds were taking effect. Perhaps a little too quickly if your sleepy mind is any indication. “Cool, cool. Well, I have no idea where my phone is, or if it even made it through in one piece.” You look around and spot a paper and pen on your bedside table. You shift awkwardly and grab it clumsily with your left hand and begin to scrawl your number on it, slow as molasses. You hand it to Sans.

Smiling, Sans looks down at the shaky numbers. There’s also a scribbly smiley face decorating the bottom of the paper.

You give Sans and Papyrus a haphazard smile and start to ramble and mumble due to the meds, “Well, I guess I coulda just told you guys my number, I’m sure you have phones, but HEY, whatever gotta start practicing sometime right?”

Sans laughs lowly, noticing you fading fast, and says, “i’ll write this one off as an A for effort. though we should probably get goin’, pap. seems like they’re gonna be resting soon. but we can always come back and see them.” He looks to you with the unspoken question in his eyes, waiting for permission.

Papyrus nods vigorously. “Good thinking, Sans!” He swivels his head to you with hopeful eyes. “HUMAN. Would you mind greatly if we came and visited you again to keep you company and to make sure you are well?”

You blink your eyes several times, struggling to keep sleep at bay for just a couple more minutes. That these two skeletons, basically strangers, would want to come back to check on you fills you with an incredibly strong and warm feeling, tears pricking your eyes again.

In that moment, Sans could see your soul brighten and vibrate with a frequency he could feel in his bones. It put the most genuine smile yet on his face. You were a good person. He could tell just from the way you treated Papyrus, and that alone was enough for him.

“Wow, you guys really don’t have to, but if you want to, I’d really love to see you again.”

“IT IS SETTLED THEN, WE SHALL SEE YOU ON THE MORROW! NYEH-HEH-HEH!”

With that, Papyrus bends down and pulls you in for a gentle hug that belies his boisterous personality, then bounds out of the room once he releases you. Sans saunters over and looks into your wide eyes and winks one more time as he takes your left hand, giving it a squeeze. You marvel a little at the feeling of smooth, flexible bone on your hand. He lets go, turns and gives a lazy wave as he walks out, before sticking both hands back in his pockets.

“see ya later, kid.”

Your muddled mind is slightly surprised at the affection Sans showed you, but it doesn’t last long. Your eyes begin to shut and you fall asleep with no thoughts other than just contentment and that you were happy you were alive, and now with two new friends.

Sans walks out of the hospital with Papyrus. He had picked up on the short conversation you had with the nurse. He heard the emotion and sincerity in your voice and he thinks to himself that he’s lucky to have met you too, despite the circumstances. It’s getting better but not everyone would willingly accept or thank a monster. As they approach the car in the parking lot he pulls out your number from his pocket, giving it another look. He grins at your messy writing and turns it over.

Eyes softening, he sees in the same messy print the words thank you and what he could only guess is a heart.


	2. Connection

Sans and Papyrus finally arrive back at their house. Now that all of the excitement and adrenaline of the night has worn off, both brothers are exhausted. Even Papyrus is dragging his boots as they stumble inside the house.

Rubbing his eye-sockets, Sans turns to Papyrus, “hey bro, want me to read your bedtime story?”

“It is alright brother. You are much too tired, and I must admit, as GREAT as I am, that I am tired as well. I would rather you get your rest.”

Surprise and fondness squeezes Sans’ soul. “aw gee paps. i’m not too tired that i can’t read my cool bro a story.”

He rubs his jaw in consideration. “WELL…If you truly do not mind. Nyeh!” He jogs down the hall to his room to get ready for bed.

Shaking his head, Sans marvels at where Papyrus keeps his nearly boundless energy, almost wishing he could have the same stamina. Almost. He’s far too fond of naps though. He walks down the hall after his brother. When he gets to Papryus’ room, Papyrus is already in bed, covers tucked under his chin, sleepy eyes watching Sans. Sans smiles and goes over to the bookcase.

“which one would ya like to hear tonight paps?” He scans the books, waiting for Papyrus to respond. Confused at the silence, he turns towards Papyrus again.

“hey paps…?”

But Papyrus was already asleep.

Sans gives a tired chuckle, affection ghosting across his features. He walks over to the racecar bed, leans down and places a small kiss on Papyrus’ forehead with a soft *clink*.

“night bro.”

He turns off the lights as he exits the room and closes the door. He walks back down the hall to the front door, making sure it’s locked before he heads into his own room across from the living room.

Kicking off his slippers and shrugging off his hoodie, Sans faceplants onto his soft bed, not even moving the covers. He breathes deep the smell of home and exhales, turning over and fishing his phone and your number out of his pocket.

He gives it a look and inputs your number into his contact list, nicknaming you ‘lefty.’ He’s not sure whether your phone survived, but decides what the hell and types out a text anyway.

_-hey. its sans._

_-the skeleton_

_-not sure if youre gonna get this_

_-but just wanna say my bro and i are glad to have met u_

_-and tho youre not now, im glad youre all right_

He decides it’s good enough and sends it, not really expecting a response. He’ll see if you get it tomorrow. He leans over the side of the bed to grab the charger cable and plugs in his phone, setting it on the nightstand next to his pillow. He shimmies up so he’s a bit more comfortable and places his hands behind his head, quickly falling asleep.

He doesn’t really dream.

 

\------------- 

 

It’s early morning when you finally wake up from your medicine-induced sleep. You try to shake the fog from your mind. Sleeping under the influence of meds has always caused you to wake up slower, both in mind and body, than you normally would. There’s a nurse beside your bed checking the machines again.

She looks at you with a smile, “Good morning. How are you feeling? Did you get some rest?”

Blinking groggily, you respond, “Yeah, thanks.” You flash a small smile at her.

“The doctor should be in shortly.” And with that she places something on your bed. You look down a bit confused as to what it might be.  

It's your phone. Oh man, it's your phone. THANK GLOB IT’S YOUR PHONE.

“No way!” You shout, the surprise awakening you. You pick it up and turn it over and over. It’s got some scratches on it, but miraculously looks otherwise unscathed. You press the home button but it doesn’t turn on. You conclude it’s most likely out of battery. It’s not really a surprise, it didn’t have that much left before you crashed anyway. You set a mental reminder to get a charger somehow.

 **“** Thank you!” You call out to the nurse as she leaves the room, pleased at your enthusiasm.

You lean back, reveling a little in the luck that’s come out of such an unlucky incident. At this point, you’re not even really thinking about your phone anymore. Instead your mind drifts to the skeleton brothers you met yesterday. You close your eyes, a smile softening your face as you think about Papyrus’ kindness and passion and Sans’ humor and calm demeanor. Such opposites but you can tell they love one another very much.

Which causes you to put a few extra exclamation marks around your mental reminder to find a charger. Highlighted. In bold.

You’re jarred from your thoughts by the door opening. Your doctor walks in and over to you.

“Hello, ____. My name is Dr. Turner. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Hi. I feel ok. My head doesn’t hurt as much, and neither does my arm, but I expect that’s because of the medication, right?”

“Yes. The pain in your head and arm should fade away in several days, as well as the bruises and cuts on the rest of your body. However, let me or the nurses know if it persists for longer than a week. Now, since you did receive a head injury, we want to keep you in the hospital for at least another day for observation. But after that, you may leave. You will have to come back in four weeks so we can take a look at your arm again and see how it’s mending. That sound like a plan?”

You nod and thank her for fixing you up. She gives you a confident crooked smile, “Not at all, it’s my job and I’m happy to do it. I’m just glad your friends were there for you.”

You grin. “Me too.”

“Good. Now get some more rest and a nurse will come back in a little while with food and to check on you.” She scribbles some more things on your chart and strides purposefully out of your room.

You settle back into your pillows and look around the bright, too-white room, glancing at the window to the left. You’ve only been one night in the hospital and you’re already wishing you were out. You need something to preoccupy yourself. You automatically grab your phone, but remember just as quickly that it’s out of juice. Damn. You sigh. Your parents were right; the younger generation really are slaves to technology.

You get an idea.

You press the call button and several moments later a nurse appears.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, uh, I was wondering if I could get some paper and a pen, please?” You look a little sheepish, hoping you didn’t bother them unnecessarily.

He chuckles and nods, “Sure thing. Be right back.”

You clench your fist and bring it down in front of your chest, whispering “YES.”

The nurse comes back in with a notebook and pen and sets it on your bed.

“Here you go. Do you draw or something?”

“A little. More of a dabbler. But…,” you glare at your cast, “I’m kinda right-handed. So, I wanted to practice getting used to writing and such with my left. Also my phone is dead.”

He laughs, “Man, that’s tough. Good luck with that. You’ll have to keep me updated on your progress.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assure him. He laughs again and exits the room.

Now by yourself, you take the pen and notebook, and begin to write. Where better to start off than with the alphabet. Geez, in your late 20’s and you’d never even thought you would be doing what you did in elementary school again.

A couple of hours pass, but it seems like only a few minutes to you. You've been diligently writing with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth in concentration. The first couple pages of the notebook are filled with lopsided letters when the same nurse comes back in with a tray of food.

You look up and so does your stomach, growling with wild abandon. Eyes wide, you cover your abdomen to muffle the sounds. You give a nervous laugh.

“Guess I’m pretty hungry, huh?”

He huffs a laugh and sets the tray beside your bed, then checks the machines. “It’s not surprising; you haven’t really eaten since before your accident. And what better nourishment is there than uh…hospital food….” He pulls down the corners of his mouth, making a face at you.

You chuckle and reply, “Surely there is nothing better. Except for anything probably.” You lean closer in confidence, “But really, thanks.”

“No problem. How’s the practice coming along?”

You show him your messy writing. “I think Shakespeare himself would be green with envy.”

He busts out laughing. “Hey, in all seriousness, it’s not too bad. Keep it up, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.” He gives your left shoulder a soft punch and walks out of the room.

Just as you’re opening the pudding cup and licking the foil, because you’re a goddamn adult and pudding is delicious, the nurse pops his head back in.

“Hey, you got some visitors here for ya. Want me to let them in?”

Suddenly your day gets infinitely brighter and you nod vigorously with the foil still in your mouth.

Not a minute later, Papyrus comes skidding inside the room.

“HUMAN! WE HAVE RETURNED JUST LIKE WE SAID WE WOULD!”

Laughing, you push your tray away and extend your left arm out in a hug-invitation. “Papyrus!”

He NYEH-HEH-HEH’s and gets even more excited, if that’s possible, at your gesture, and crosses the room in a couple long steps to give you a warm hug. It’s gentle as he is still mindful of your injuries.

As you’re hugging you see Sans shuffle in and take in the sight with his familiar grin.

He hums a contented sigh, his bones rattling softly. His chest tightens, happy again that he and Papyrus made a new, and more importantly kind, friend.

Papyrus lets you go and steps back. You extend your arm out again, saying, “Hey Sans! You get one too, duh.”

Sans chuckles as he walks across the room to your bedside. “that’s good, cuz i was beginning to feel _left_ out.”

You wrap your arm around his neck and hug him close. He’s hard and soft all at the same time. He pulls you in tight with his right arm so he doesn’t jostle your broken side. You shake a little with amusement, half-whispering, “You gotta step up your game, you used that one already.”

He pulls away, smirking, and places his sleeved arm across your eyes.

“guess i can’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.”

You burst into laughter and shove his arm away, saying, “Wow, nice one, you got me there, man.”

Sans beams in victory, pleased at making you laugh. He steps back and plops down in the chair beside your bed. You settle back into your pillows and pull over your food tray again.

“I hope you guys don’t mind if I eat while you’re here. I haven’t had food since…yesterday morning?”

“no problem kid, ya gotta eat.”

“OF COURSE HUMAN! Would you like me to bring you SPAGHETTI at our next visit??”

You smile at his thoughtful offer. “That would be amazing, Papyrus. I bet you’re a wonderful cook. I can only subsist on pudding for so long, no matter how delicious it might be.” You hold your pudding cup aloft in quiet reverence. Papyrus, intrigued by this new food, comes closer to investigate.

Sans laughs at the silly look on your face and watches you and Papyrus have an animated exchange over the joys of pudding. His eyes rove along your face, checking the bruises, and they skim along your broken arm. He thinks you look better today, now that you’ve gotten some rest. Your eyes are brighter and your smiles less strained from pain. Though you're still paler than he likes, probably due to lack of eating. On the tray beside your bed he notices a notebook and pen, and, amazingly, what he assumes is your phone.

So it did make it through the crash. And none the worse for wear looks like, he thinks to himself. Must be dead though if his unanswered texts were any indication. He continues staring at it, looking at the make, when a question rouses him from his occupation.

“huh?” Eye-lights shifting back to you.

You smirk, “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“oh, nothin’. see ya got your phone back. pretty amazing it made it through the crash.”

“HUMAN THAT IS WONDERFUL!”

“For real, I would’ve thought it’d be a goner. But it seems I’m luckier in more ways than one.” You give Sans a genuine smile that reflects in his face as well, your implication obvious to him.

Sans closes his eyes and lazily gets up out of the chair and starts heading out of the room.

“Brother, where are you going?” Papyrus questions. You voice your confusion too.

“i’ll be right back. gotta get somethin’ real quick.” The slaps of his slippers echo in the hall outside but suddenly stop.

You shrug and look back at Papyrus as he holds your pudding cup. You had convinced him to try it. His attention back on the pudding, he gives the spoon an experimental taste.

You’d thought you’d seen everything as far as skeletons go. You were pretty wrong.

But ridiculously amused.

Papyrus’ eyes had begun to glisten and sparkle and he lets out a loud MMMMMMMM.

“HUMAN! I LOVE THIS…PUDD-ING. It is not as great as spaghetti. ESPECIALLY MY SPAGHETTI. But it is wonderful, nonetheless.”

You clutch your side in mirth, so happy Papyrus loves pudding, and so genuinely too.

“I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to make some more for you sometime.”

Papyrus bounces up and down and wraps his right arm around your shoulders, thrusting the pudding cup in his left hand out in a majestic sweep.

“WE SHALL ENGAGE IN A FOOD EXCHANGE! ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WITH MY SPAGHETTI, AND YOU WITH YOUR PUDDING. WE WILL RULE THE CULINARY INDUSTRY.” Then he gives you a very sly look out of the side of his eyes. “And make all of our friends eat them.”

You give him a delighted grin, “I shall follow you in your amazing food escapades, oh captain, my captain.”

He jumps up quickly, shouting, “OH, THAT IS UNDYNE, HUMAN. SHE IS THE CAPTAIN. Captain of the guard, that is. Or rather, FORMER captain of the guard. YOU MUST MEET HER AS WELL AS ALPHYS! They are great friends of ours, they will love you!”

The prospect of meeting even more new people is a little daunting, but if they are good friends of Papyrus and Sans, then they must really be awesome. It fills you with excitement and a little something else.

“Sure, I would love to meet them.”

Papyrus claps his hands together and just as he begins to talk to you about Undyne and Alphys, Sans walks back in looking accomplished.

You smile at him, happy that he’s back. “Where’d you shuffle off to?”

“pickin’ up this. thought you might need it. your phone’s lookin’ a little tired. figure it’d need a little pick-me-up.” He pulls out a ball of electrical cord from his pocket and holds it out to you.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes moving back and forth between his and the ball. He raises one of his brow-bones and lifts up one side of his grin in a lopsided smirk, loving the astonishment on your face. You reach for the mechanism.

“Is…is this a charger? You didn’t buy this did you? So help me I will pay for it.”

He laughs a little at your surprise, “nah, don’t worry. i had extras at home.”

You gently place the charger next to your phone on the table and immediately fling out your arm to grab onto Sans' jacket. He gives an undignified yelp as you pull him in for another hug, pressing the side of your face against his rapidly warming skull.

“Thank you again,” you whisper. That sends his bones rattling.

“heh, it’s really no problem buddy.” He blushes a bit and thanks his stars you can’t see it. But he hugs you in return, rubbing small circles on your back.

You separate and Sans turns and grabs your phone and charger, bending down to plug it into the wall. He gives it a minute, then turns it on, quickly inputting his number and Papyrus’ into your contacts list. He hands you back your phone.

“all set.”

You take the phone, curious to see what he put in.

For Papyrus, he put in ‘cool skele-bro’. For himself, he put in ‘hot skele-bro ;)’.

You snicker and roll your eyes at Sans. He shrugs and gives you a wink.

Papyrus looks frantically between you two and interjects loudly, “HE DIDN’T MAKE MY NAME INTO A PUN DID HE?!” Sans looks affronted, grasping the front of his hoodie.

“you wound me bro. you love my puns.”

“DO NOT.”

You cover for him saying, “Nah, he just said you’re cool. Which you most definitely are.”

Papyrus NYEHs and you type in little addendums to their names while they’re preoccupied:

‘cool skele-bro AKA THE GREAT PAPYRUS <3’

‘hot skele-bro ;) AKA Slowbro <3’

You grin again. Once Sans is done teasing Papyrus he looks over at the notebook on your table.

“been writin’?”

You pick up the notebook and hand it to him. “Yeah, I’ve been practicing my left-handedness. But be careful, the sheer beauty of those letters is enough to stun.”

Chuckling, Sans opens the book, and looks down. Even though he’s seen your left-handed writing before, he isn’t prepared for what appears. Oh man is he not prepared. It looks like the scrawling of a madman.

He gives a deep bark of laughter, doubling over and nearly crying.

You can’t help but join in, his laugh infectious and warm, stirring something deep inside you.

You yell, “It’s not THAT bad!”

“that…that hit right in the funny bone.” He gasps out in between laughs. He takes another look. Bad idea. It sends him into another spiral of laughter that leaves him clutching his gut and you wheezing in response.

Papyrus looks on in happiness, joyful and content that their new friend has gotten his brother a bit more out of his shell. He can’t wait until you meet the rest of their friends. An exciting thought crosses his mind. They must have a party. With spaghetti. LOTS OF IT. Grinning, he sets his jaw in anticipation of the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pudding <3
> 
> So, I busted this one out pretty quick because god your comments and kudos and everything mean so much to me. Keep being my sweet bread and butter. My BBs. Y'all are my BBs now.
> 
> We'll keep it going, but (as I have school) I won't give you a time when the next chapter will be up. All I can say is it will be sometime later this week. We'll keep it nice and limber.
> 
> As always, I love your comments and welcome any suggestions or constructive criticism you have to offer. I'm still learning as a novice fic writer. 
> 
> Until next time! *FINGER GUNS*


	3. Imprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gestures to all of you* I have a tumblr now! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ollyollyoxenfreelitbm

Breathe. You gotta breathe.

But it’s extremely hard with the skeleton next to you laughing his nonexistent guts out. You heave a big sigh in between your wheezes and lean back against the pillows, hand clutching your side.

You gasp out, “You are so… SO lucky I’m in a hospital right now, cuz I’ve got the biggest stitch in my side!”

“HUMAN!”

Sans, still in the throes of hilarity, gives you a bright look and throws his head back in another round of laughter. You settle your head back against the pillow with a huge smile on your face as Sans continues.

Papyrus finally covers his face in his hands, yelling into his gloves.

Man, you haven’t laughed so much in what feels like the longest time. It feels good. It makes your situation much more bearable that’s for sure.

Sans finally comes back down and wipes glowing cyan tears from his eye-sockets. He hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time. He looks at you resting from your laughing fit with a budding tenderness. You have a good laugh; hearty, rhythmic, and boisterous. A laugh he wouldn’t mind hearing again.

He places your notebook back on your table.

“i’ll have to look at that again whenever i want a good laugh.”

You smile over at him, tip an invisible hat and say, “Glad I could be of service.”

He chuckles again and moves to sit back in the chair with a great exhale.

Papyrus, finally done yelling, looks at you and Sans pointedly, “Are you both QUITE FINISHED?”

You give him a very serious nod and pat your bed for him to sit down, shifting your legs over to give him some room. He walks over a little suspiciously, but once he sits with part of his back resting against your legs, he relaxes and beams at you.

“SO HUMAN! When are you able to leave the hospital?” Sans gives you a questioning look as well.

“This morning my doctor came by and said I’d be able to leave tomorrow. But I’ll have to come back in four weeks so they can check my arm and see how it’s mending.”

“THAT IS GREAT NEWS! Once you get out we will be able to hang out ALL THE TIME! And then we can make best friend spaghetti!”

Sans gives a small smile, but looks pensive as he thinks.

“how ya plannin’ on gettin’ home bud? your truck was in pretty bad shape.”

You pause and think, a frown resting on your face. Damn it. You had almost forgotten the very reason you were in the hospital in the first place. Once you get out you’ll have to call your insurance company and take care of that nonsense. What a fuckin’ bummer.

You furrow your brow and shrug, “I dunno. Probably call some classmates to pick me up or something.” 

“NONSENSE.”

“we’ll take ya home.”

You look up at the brothers skeptically.

“I can’t let you guys do that. You’ve already done so much for me already.”

Sans looks straight in your eyes. His eye-lights almost burn they’re so bright and serious.

“this is what friends are for. we wanna make sure you’re ok.”

You raise your eyebrows in mild shock and finally tear your eyes away from his when Papyrus places a warm gloved hand on your leg. He also gives you a stern look; though slightly less serious, it is still filled with concern. “My brother is right. We want you to be safe. We are your friends.”

Eyes wide, you feel the tears coming on again. As you grab Papyrus’ hand, you duck your head to try to hide your tears.

“What did I do to deserve you guys.” You give a weak chuckle.

Papyrus lifts his other hand to gently grasp your chin and lift it up. He smiles.

“Obviously something AMAZING to get a friend as GREAT as I am. And I suppose Sans, too.” He side-eyes Sans playfully.

Sans laughs at that. “thank paps. knew i could count on ya.”

You give a watery laugh at the exchange, trying to clear your throat as Sans looks on. He has such a cool brother. Papyrus’ kindness is always something special to watch. Though casual and collected on the outside, Sans meant every word. You were their friend. He wanted you safe and he cared for your well-being just as much as Papyrus at this point.

You hurriedly wipe your face and take a deep breath. “Guess I can’t talk y’all out of it. You’ll get to see where I live, so then you can come hang out whenever.”

Papyrus claps his hands and Sans gives a lazy “hell yeah.”

You nod to yourself and fall silent, thinking about what you need to do when you get home to your apartment. But even before that, you wonder where your things are from the accident, like your backpack and clothes. The nurse had your phone, you wonder what else they had salvaged.

You lean over and press the call button.

“whatcha doin’ pal?”

“I’m curious about where my backpack and clothes are actually now that I think about it. The nurse gave me my phone, so they might have the rest of my stuff.”

A nurse comes in shortly. “Everything all right in here? Sounded like you were having a good time.” She smiles around the room.

“Ha, yeah. I was wondering where my backpack and clothes are though? Do you have them?”

She ponders the question, “I think we do, let me go check.”

You murmur to yourself, “I hope everything is there.”

Not too long afterwards, the same nurse who gave you your phone walks in with a backpack and a bag of clothes. You get excited seeing your things, but then deflate a little as she comes closer.

You pale.

There are bloodstains covering your clothes and speckling your ripped pack.

The nurse places both packages on your bed with a sad smile. She touches your shoulder and leaves.

You whisper, a little breathless, “thank you.”

You can’t help but stare at the dark crimson blotches. They draw you into the redness like a rising tide, dragging your gaze deeper and deeper….

Until two bony hands grasp your left hand and hold it in a solid grip, disentangling your fingers from your ruined clothes.

You look up and see Sans gazing at you, his head tilted and a soft grin tempering the fierce concern in his dark eyes.

Papyrus takes the bag of clothes and places them on the ground beside your bed.

Sans had watched you react, watched you as you reached for your things, carefully touching your clothes and fingering the bloodstains. He had begun to lean forward as he saw you tense up and become absorbed in whatever feelings and memories the clothes were bringing back. He looked at Papyrus, who gave him a sharp nod, and Sans was up, moving quickly to bring you back.

“knock knock.”

You blink. Hard. Squinting your eyes and shaking your head to clear it. You focus on the warmth of Sans’ hands. The smooth yet textured surface of bone. The thumb that's rubbing steadily over your knuckles. If you really focus, you can feel a low thrumming coming from within. With your eyes still closed you answer, “who’s there?”

“orange.”

Your lips crack into a small smile. “Orange who?”

“orange you glad we’re here?”

You relax a bit, open your eyes and look into his, your sincere smile broadening. “Yes.”

He squeezes your hand, his grin widening as well.

“knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“noah.”

“Noah who?”

“noah good place to find you new clothes?”

You give a soft sigh in response. “C’mon you’re not gonna get me clothes too.”

Sans hands tighten around yours again, looking at you pointedly, voice dropping in pitch. “what did i say.”

You huff and blow your bangs away from your face, mumbling, “this is what friends are for.”

“exactly. now, would ya kindly answer my knock knock joke? don’t leave me hangin’.” He gives you a wink.

You let loose a dramatic groan, throwing your head back. “I GUESS from my apartment would be ideal. Don’t need to spend money. But you guys would need a key to get in. It should still be in my backpack hopefully.”

Sans lets your hand go, as you reach for your backpack. You purposely ignore the blood splatters and dig inside your bag.

“Aha!”

You hold up your keys in victory, giving silent thanks they were actually still there.

Papyrus quickly snatches them from your hand as Sans is reaching for them.

“NYEH HEH! TOO SLOW BROTHER!”

Sans laughs and shrugs, placing his hands back in his hoodie pockets. “i just can’t compete with your agility bro.”

After Papyrus had taken your keys, you took to rummaging around in your bag again, an idea forming in your head. You feel a little guilty worrying them the way you did, so you want to let Papyrus (and Sans if he wanted) do something fun.

You take out the package and bring it close to your chest, getting the attention of the skeleton brothers.

“Alright, so. I’ve never had a broken anything before, but I’m under the impression from society that it’s customary to sign someone’s cast. I want you guys to sign mine.” You excitedly hold out the bunch of colored sharpies to an amused Sans and Papyrus.

Papyrus yells, “OF COURSE YOU MAY HAVE MY AUTOGRAPH HUMAN! I AM QUITE GREAT AFTER ALL! NYEH HEH HEH!”

He eagerly grabs several of the markers, steals Sans’ chair and brings it around to the other side of your bed. He sits down and gently cradles your cast in his hand as he begins to furiously scribble and doodle on it.

Sans chuckles and, with a completely mischievous smile, takes a red sharpie. He ambles around your bed and, coming up next to Papyrus, leans heavily on him, completely messing up Papyrus’ groove.

“Sans, what ARE YOU…?! AGH!”

Papyrus hollers and attempts to shove Sans off, but Sans is like a dead weight.

“oh man sorry bro, didn’t see ya, hold up, just gotta…yeah, an ‘s,’ then an ‘a,’…. hmmmm…. then an ‘n’ and another ‘s’…. mhmm a masterpiece for sure.” 

You bust out laughing at the two of them nearly wrestling each other as Sans writes out his name on your cast as slow as possible. Well, it’s very one-sided wrestling. But god if it isn’t funny as hell.

Sans pushes himself up with a big huff and beams at you, extremely pleased with himself. You giggle as he makes his way back around and sits on the bed where Papyrus previously sat, back up against your legs in a similar fashion.

Papyrus glares at Sans, gives a harrumph and resumes his doodling. With him being occupied, you turn your attention back to Sans. He speaks up as you face him.

“so is there anything else from your place you want us to pick up for ya?”

You take a moment and think. You’ll be going back tomorrow so you don’t need much.

“I think I should be fine with just clothes. A shirt and pair of pants. Comfy pants. Don’t worry about anything else.” You give him a smile. You think of something though.

“BUT OH! Please ignore the mess my apartment is in! It’s not usually like that I swear, I just haven’t been home much lately. You know, organized chaos, all that….” You trail off, embarrassed.

Sans smiles and waves it off with his hand, “you should see my room. doesn’t bother me.”

Papyrus chimes in, “Do not worry human. Sans is correct. He won’t allow me to clean it.” Papyrus raises his eyes from his work and flashes Sans a slightly annoyed look.

Sans chuckles and lazily shrugs. “you know me paps.”

Just then a nurse comes in. You all face towards them as they announce that visiting hours are almost over.

You shift, kind of sad, and look up at Sans and Papyrus as they stand to leave. Papyrus places your sharpies back in your bag. You tell them your address and how to get there.

“My apartment is a little weird, but you should find it alright. When you get inside, my clothes will be in the closet in my bedroom to the right. There’s a chest of drawers, you can’t miss it. If you have any questions, call me. And help yourselves to whatever you want, if you’re thirsty or hungry. Whatever.”

Sans and Papyrus nod, Sans grinning and Papyrus looking determined.

“We shall come back tomorrow SUCCESSFUL! We will have your clothes and then take you back to your place of residence!”

“we’ll see ya tomorrow buddy.”

You give them a very serious look, “Thank you both so much for everything. Again. I couldn’t have ever imagined having better friends than you two.”

Papyrus comes over to wrap you in a big hug, saying, “We are happy to help. And I am glad we are friends.”

“Me too.”

He releases you with a quick squeeze and walks outside of the room. Sans steps up to your bedside and enfolds you in a warm hug.

“remember what i said.” He murmurs low in your ear.

You tighten your arm and bury your head in his hood in response. “I won’t forget.”

He returns your embrace and finally lets you go, turning to leave. “good. don’t get too bonely without us.”

“I’d be telling a fibula if I said I won’t.” You shoot a smirk at him and wave. He laughs, winking back at you as he strolls out the door and after Papyrus.

After all the laughing from today, you sure had a massive headache on the way. But you decide, leaning back and closing your eyes, it was completely and totally worth it.

 -----------

Once the brothers leave the hospital, they head straight to your apartment. It’s not terribly hard to find. They pull up to the collection of duplexes and park in front of your apartment. They get out of the car and Papyrus pulls your keys out as they head to the front door.

They open it and let themselves in, eyes wide as they take in the place.

Sans gives a low whistle and Papyrus whispers a soft, “Wowie.”

Sans looks around, a bit blown away. It’s not that your apartment is very big or richly furnished or anything like that. Aside from your aforementioned ‘organized chaos,’ of which there is much of that Sans notices, it’s that your place looks so…inviting. So lived in, like a home.

There are colored tapestries, pictures and posters and framed artworks and paintings covering almost every inch of wall. Your shelves are filled with books and figurines of the things you enjoy. Sans could spend forever just looking at all of the knickknacks and papers and books you have. A strong feeling comes over him as he walks in and takes in your home. He actually hopes he gets the opportunity for you to show him all of the things you have. He wants to know you; what you think, what you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you happy, even what makes you sad or angry.

Papyrus seems to be equally interested in your place as he runs lankily about your living room and kitchen.

Sans watches his brother for a moment, entertained at his excitement. But then starts scanning the place for your bedroom. He looks upstairs, where, sure enough, there seems to be a loft as a bedroom.

“hey paps, i’m gonna head upstairs to grab their clothes. you’ll be fine down here right?”

Papyrus nods quickly, still entranced by everything.

Smiling, Sans starts trudging up the stairs, silently half-cursing the incline. Once he arrives at the top his smile softens. Your bedroom is even more…you. He has a hard time parsing out his reasons why, but he just _feels_ like the objects in your room hold more sentimental value than the rest. In your most vulnerable and peaceful area, you surround yourself with the things you love most. Sans admires that. He realizes he’s not so different as he thinks of Papyrus.

Looking around he mumbles to himself, “closet to the…right.” And there it is. He saunters over, hands in pockets, slippers brushing the plush carpet, and takes a peek inside. It’s a modest size, and right where you said it’d be, sits a chest of drawers. He heads in and, taking his hands out of his pockets, begins opening the drawers to pick out a shirt and pants.

His eyes widen when he opens your lingerie drawer, and he hurriedly shuts it, a faint blue glow rising on his cheekbones.

Very, uh… colorful, he thinks to himself.

He finally finds your shirt drawer and pants drawer, choosing a pair of sweats and a comfortable-looking band shirt. He shuts your drawers with your clothes in his arms, and starts heading out of your bedroom and down the stairs. He reaches the bottom landing and catches a surprised and very sheepish-looking Papyrus, his arms full of the coffee mugs and things you had laying around the apartment.

Sputtering, “OH SANS! UM….WELL…I FIGURED I SHOULD CLEAN UP A LITTLE IN ANTICIPATION OF THEIR ARRIVAL TOMORROW. They should have a clean house to come back to! .... They won’t be mad will they?”

Sans gives a loud laugh, mainly from the look on Papyrus’ face.

“i don’t think they’ll be mad at all. they’ll appreciate it a lot paps. need some help?”

Surprised at Sans’ offer, Papyrus shakes off his earlier uncertainty. “No it is alright brother! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, am almost done anyway!”

Still chuckling, Sans finds a spot on your couch to lounge on as he sleepily follows Papyrus’ cleaning rampage.

Sans sinks a bit lower into the cushions. This is pretty comfortable. Maybe TOO comfortable. But the softness and the smell of coffee and woodsmoke lull him into a sense of security and soon his eyes grow heavy and eventually close.

Papyrus finishes up the cleaning and looks at Sans dozing on the couch. He relaxes at the sight of his brother being so comfortable in a new place. Papyrus admits he feels comfortable as well. He almost hates to wake up Sans, but they must go.

“Sans, it is time to head home.”

Sans jolts awake to look at Papyrus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“sure thing bro.”

They head on out of your apartment with your things and lock the door behind them, finally getting into the car. Your place isn’t too far from theirs, only about 15 minutes actually, a distance both brothers no doubt thought about on their way home. Once they get inside their house, Sans pulls out his phone and texts you.

_-got your things. nice place btw._

**_-Thanks! You’re more than welcome to come over anytime. Really tho. Anytime. I can show you all the things I have lying around. I’m sure you saw all the shit I have. You might find some of them interesting._ **

_-u kno how much i’d like that?_

**_-How much?_ **

_-a skele-ton_

**_-You are so humerus, it’s not. Even. Funny._ **

_-i try_

**_-Indeed. Oh. I got your text earlier btw. I’m glad I met y’all too._ **

**_-I’d rather be left with you guys than all right on my own._ **

Sans’ jaw drops a bit, and then lets out a deep laugh. He shakes his head as Papyrus calls him into the kitchen for dinner. He hates to think of the pain you went through with your crash, but as you begin to grow on him and Papyrus, he only slightly remorsefully admits it was completely and totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat an update earlier than anticipated? Aw yiss.
> 
> A little angsty, but the sweetness gives cavities I tells ya.
> 
> As always, my sweet BBs, your kind comments and kudos mean the world to me. I hope you enjoy and stay amazing <3
> 
> Edit: I found a typo, FUCK (I fixed it)


	4. Bound

You wake up early the next morning, not having slept very well. You’re anxious to leave the hospital and get back home to a comfortable environment. You lean over and grab your phone to check your messages. None from Sans after you had sent that last text, but you figure he might have gotten a good laugh out of it. After you check your emails and everything, you place the phone back on the table and reach for your backpack.

You eye the bloodstains and resolve to get a new one once you get home. You admit it looks kinda badass in retrospect, but you don’t need to be reminded constantly of your accident. The cast and the stitches on your scalp are more than enough of a reminder. You want to focus on your life in the present and the amazing new friends you have.

You start rooting around in your pack, making sure everything is still there. Thankfully they are. Things are a bit banged up and messy, but otherwise fine. Once you’re done assembling your things and placing your bag on the ground next to your bed, you hear a couple quick raps on your door before your doctor walks inside the room.

“Good morning, ____. Did you sleep well?”

“Not as restful as I would like, but fine.”

“I see. Any pain keeping you awake?”

“My head does hurt a bit still and my arm throbs sometimes, but I think it’s mostly that I’m just ready to be home.”

“Of course, I know exactly what you mean. Recovering in an environment that you feel safe in is just as important as the care we do here. But it’s just your luck, since today you’ll be going home. Your concussion was very mild and in keeping you for an extra day it seems there was nothing abnormal and you are on your way to recovery. I’ll write you a prescription for some pain meds and you’ll be all set. Remember to come back in four weeks so we can look at that arm again.”

You nod and smile, “Thank you for everything, Dr. Turner.”

“Of course, it was a pleasure meeting you, despite your injuries.” She smiles back and heads out of the room.

You sigh, happy that you’re going back home. Now all you have to do is wait until Sans and Papyrus arrive. You hope they got you some comfy clothes. Like your wonderful sweats. However, at that moment, a sudden thought barrels its way through your mind like a freight train. Oh god.

You groan and cover your face.

You hope they didn’t see your lingerie drawer.

 ----------

“SANS! WAKE UP YOU LAZYBONES!”

If Sans had a heart, it would have stopped in that moment as he jolts awake. His eyes fly open and his hand has the sheets in a death-grip, clutching them to his sternum. Sweat beads up on his skull, and his chest heaves for breath, despite not truly needing air. His eye-lights, dim almost to the point of blackness, move frantically around the room until they shoot over to his door when Papyrus shouts again.

“SANS! We’re going to be late in picking up ____ if YOU DON’T GET UP!”

Sans shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, calming down. He’s here, Papyrus is here, you’re here. Aboveground. He repeats it like a mantra.

He exhales shakily, clearing his throat before speaking.

“yeah, ok bro, gettin’ up.”

He swings his legs off the side of the bed and leans forward, elbows on knees, head heavy in his hands.

Saying quietly to himself, “it’s fine, everything is fine.”

He rubs his face vigorously before stumbling up and out of bed. He heads to his closet and plucks out his usual attire. Shrugging the hoodie on and shuffling into his slippers, he crosses the room and grabs his phone to slip it into his shorts. He also gets your clothes and tucks them carefully under his arm, turning and finally opening the door to an annoyed Papyrus. He looks up and grins at his brother.

“mornin’ bro.”

“More like LATE-MORNING-ALMOST-NOON BROTHER.” Papyrus uncrosses his arms and goes to the kitchen to grab the container of spaghetti he made for you. Now that Sans is awake, Papyrus looks less annoyed and more excited.

“We don’t want to keep our friend waiting, so let us go.”

“you got it paps.” Sans follows his brother out of their front door, locking it behind them. As they get into the car and back out of the driveway, Sans pulls out his phone and texts you that they’re on their way. He’s a little surprised when you don’t respond, but they’ll see you soon anyway.

They finally arrive at the hospital and walk inside. Your nurse smiles at them and leads them to your room. She knocks and sticks her head in. They exchange a few words and she opens the door to let him and Papyrus in.

Papyrus rushes in excitedly, “HUMAN! HELLO! We have come to take you home! AND I BROUGHT YOU SPAGHETTI!”

Sans walks in after Papyrus, and turns his head towards you. His smile drops just a little. You look tired even though your smile brightens at their arrival. He wonders if you’ve been sleeping well; if your injuries have been keeping you up.

He crosses the room until he’s standing by your bed. His smile perks back up as he watches you extend out your arm to give Papyrus a hug, thanking him for the spaghetti.

Papyrus steps back and then you look to him with a pointed stare, left arm out in invitation. He chuckles and steps over, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you.

“mornin’ lefty.”

You laugh into his jacket as your hand grips his shoulder blade, your body shaking. “good morning, bonehead.”

He squeezes you in response and lets go, hands sliding against your back, smile wide. He shoves his hands back into his hoodie pockets and looks over your face.

“ya sleepin’ alright?”

Your hand raises to your face and touches the dark circles under your eyes and you shrug.

“Not really, but I think I’m just ready to be home ya know? Doesn’t help that I haven’t really cleaned up since the accident. Probably look like shit.”

“nah. for escaping death, ya look pretty lively, kid. i get it though. we did bring your clothes by the way.” He takes the clothes and places them in your hand with a wink.

“Oh YES, you got my sweats! Thank you!” You get excited seeing your comfy pants. But then you blanch a little, quickly glancing at his face, hoping he didn’t see your lingerie. If he did, he doesn’t show it, other than the wink, which could mean anything.

Amused, he sees you pale, and he’s pretty sure he knows what you’re thinking. He decides not to tease you about it. For now.

“Uh, cool, well I better get dressed.” You grab your clothes and shift your legs over, minding your cast. You slide off the bed and shakily stand. You had gotten up before but you were still unsure on your feet and got dizzy easily.

You take a few steps before you stumble, “Ah, shit!”

But you’re caught by a couple of deceptively strong, thick-boned arms.

You laugh weakly and look up into a lazy smile and vivid eyes.

“Can’t believe I’m already fallin’ for ya, huh?”

He laughs and says, “ya stole that one right out from under me.”

“Ha, damn straight, you gotta be quicker on your feet. But do you mind just helping me over to the bathroom? As you could probably see, I can’t walk super well yet.”

He nods. “no problem kid.”

He takes your clothes and wraps your arm around his own as he leads you slowly to the bathroom. When you finally get there you take your clothes from him.

“Thanks, I’ll be out in a minute,” shooting him a quick smile before closing the door. You slowly change out of your hospital gown and pull on your sweats first. At least you don’t have to button anything right now. You give your shirt a hard look and pick it up, debating how you’re going to finagle it around your cast. So you feed the right arm of your shirt over your cast until it's over and then pull it over your head. You thread your left arm underneath your hair and sweep it out from the lip of the shirt and smooth it down. You fold up your gown a little clumsily and place it on the counter and open the door.

When you walk out, you see Sans leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and Papyrus looking excitedly at you with your bag and the spaghetti in his arms. You grin at him and walk over and slip on your shoes. As you’re putting your phone in your pocket a nurse comes in.

“Are you ready to go? If so, you can follow me and we can discharge you.”

You look at the brothers cheerfully and ask, “You guys ready to go home?”

Sans opens his eyes and nods and Papyrus shouts excitedly, “YES!” He darts out of the room and waits for you in the hall as you and Sans follow the nurse out.

You begin signing papers the nurse hands you and once you’re finished, another walks up with a wheelchair. You look at them questioningly.

“What’s that for?”

The nurse gives you a knowing look and says, “We have to wheel you out of the hospital once you’re discharged. It’s an insurance thing.”

“Oh. Ok, I guess.” You pout a little and mumble under your breath, “I mean I could walk by myself but that’s fine….”

Sans watches you as you grumble and slip into the chair, giving a soft chuckle as he makes eye contact with you, sharing a look. He leans down next to your ear and whispers, “wouldn’t want ya passin’ out. wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do.”

Your quiet giggle turns into a throaty laugh as he steps back and lets the nurse wheel you out. Papyrus runs ahead to get the car. Once you’re outside, Sans extends a hand to help you out of the wheelchair. You turn to the nurse and thank them as they go back inside.

Sans finally releases your hand. You find yourself missing the heat of it. You hadn’t had much regular contact since you’d been at the hospital, human, monster, or otherwise. The sterile environment leaves much to be desired in the way of normal social interaction.

You turn your head to him and you put your hand in your pocket. “Your hand is warm.”

He laughs and returns your matter-of-fact gaze. “you hold a lotta cold hands?”

“Hardly. If by cold hands you actually mean the absence of any hands, then yeah, I do a lot of that. But I just think it’s cool your hands are warm.”

“if ya like holding my hand, all ya gotta do is say it.” He gives you a playful wink.

You laugh and dramatically throw your left hand over your eyes, saying sarcastically, “Oh no, I’ve been caught, what ever shall I do. How will I ever show my face again in public.”

His grin widens, eyes flashing, and he leans in closer, enjoying you playing along, “don’t get cold feet on me now.”

Your laugh gets louder and you eye him with a fake suspicious look, “This sounds like a cry for help, Sans. If you secretly actually want to hold my hand, I guess I could lend ya one sometime.”

He throws back his head and joins you as Papyrus drives up. Sans steps up, opens the door and helps you in, climbing into the backseat himself.

Your laughter fades away and you lean back against the seat and close your eyes, happy that you’re finally out of the hospital and on your way home.

Sans watches you relax as Papyrus drives to your place. He’d be lying to himself if he said the thought of seeing your place again didn’t thrill him a bit. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in seeing you in it, interacting with your own space.

The closer you get to your apartment, the more excited you get, practically jumping out of the car once Papyrus pulls in front of it. Papyrus shares your enthusiasm as you take your key from him and open your door.

You step inside and, frankly, you’re a little shocked. It’s actually pretty clean. You KNOW you didn’t leave it like that. You whirl around, mouth agape and stare at Sans and Papyrus.

“Did….Did you guys clean my apartment too?!”

Sans looks amused and Papyrus looks pretty guilty. He rubs the back of his skull.

“…Yes human. I just thought you should come home to a clean apartment!”

You step toward him and hug him fiercely. “Geez Papyrus, you know you didn’t have to. I’m gonna repay you both back someday.”

He smiles and hugs you tightly in return. “Do not worry human! It was quite easy for THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

You let go and finally step inside your apartment, entering the living room. Sans and Papyrus follow you, closing the door behind them. You move and sit heavily on your couch, throwing your arm over the back, closing your eyes, and deeply breathing the smell of home.

“Hey guys, please make yourselves at home. My home is your home now. I don’t have much, but anything you want, I will gladly give.”

Papyrus beams and places your things down, eagerly moving towards the figurines and books on your shelves.

Sans plops down on the other side of your couch in a similar fashion. He also breathes deeply. He enjoys the coffee and wood smoke smell that seems to permeate your home. Giving a satisfied sigh, he concentrates on you. He’s never seen you more content now that you’re in your element. It’s nice to see you finally relax and look _ok_ for the first time in days.

“So what do you like?”

He’s jarred from his thoughts and focuses on you. Your eyes are still closed.

“sleepin’.”

“Good answer. What else?”

“naps.”

You crack one eye open and give him a pointed stare.

He chuckles, “astronomy.”

“Perfect.”

You close your eye again and get up. Sans looks at you a little confused as you walk over to your bookshelf. You lift your left hand and trail it along the edges of the books, slowly one-by-one, tilting your head to the right to read the spines. A small smile lifts your lips and you give a pleased hum when you find the books you’re looking for. You pull out six books from the shelf and a magazine and put each one on the ground since you can’t carry all of them. You lower yourself to the ground and cross your legs, waving over Sans with your left hand.

Sans grunts as he gets up from the couch and crosses the room to sit next to you and the books. He views what you’ve laid out. His gaze is riveted. You begin speaking.

“Now that you’ve told me something you like, I can give you some things you might enjoy. I have two books on astronomy itself.” You point to two books.

“Two books on constellations.” You point to another two.

“One on the Hubble Space Telescope.” You hand hovers over a larger book.

“And then, for shits and giggles and because it’s my area of interest, the last book is a history of astronomical art. Pretty neat what people thought through the ages and how they depicted it.” Your hand lays lovingly on the last one.

“Now the magazine is a subscription I have from when my papaw still ordered it. I still get it so I can give them to you whenever they come. It’s called _Astronomy_. So clever. They must have spent forever on it.” You give him a crooked smile as you look over at him. When you do, your smile falls a little.

He’s staring at the books so intensely, leaning forward, brow furrowed, his grin slipping just a bit. His hand is hovering close to the books, half-reaching out.

You lift your arm and place it lightly on his.

“Hey, I mean if you don’t want them, or want something else, just say so. I figured you might like to look at them. I could be wrong though.”

His hand shoots up and grabs yours.

“no. you’re not wrong.”

He looks up and meets your gaze, a huge smile animating his face, eye-lights gleaming in his dark sockets.

“thank you. this means a lot. really.”

You return his smile and squeeze his hand.

“Well you saw all the books I have. It was bound to happen.”

He laughs hard at that as he releases your hand and reaches for the closest book. It happens to be the astronomical art book. He opens it and thumbs through the pages, stopping briefly to look at one plate or another.

“so this is what you study?”

“Not specifically. I do like astronomy though, so why not have a book merging two interests? It might be useful one day. And I was right.”

“you’ll have to show me what ya actually study.”

You get excited and gesture to your shelves. “Definitely! You can look at, borrow, or have any of these books. I’d love to show you more. Not sure how interested you’ll actually be, but just tell me when I’m boring you.”

A thought crosses your mind as you watch Papyrus play with the many figurines you have.

“What does Papyrus like? Other than I guess action figures and such?”

“he likes stories.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “i read him one before bed every night.”

You smile at him and he returns it, pleased at your response.

“I love it.” You start shuffling awkwardly on your hand and knees over to the shelf to your right, tilting your head again to look at the names of books. You pull out three and slide them over to Sans as you crawl back over.

“I’m not sure exactly what he likes, so I got a bit of everything. Maybe he’ll enjoy these. One is about dragons and some stories associated with them. This one is about a boy wizard and his adventures in a world of magic. The last one I’ve loved since I was little. Even more now because the art is great as well as the storytelling. It’s about a very hungry caterpillar. He has a bunch of other books in the series too. But we’ll try this one as a start.”

Sans looks at you with a kind smile, the bone around his eyes softening.

“thanks. he’ll love ‘em.”

You pick up a book and balance it on your lap, smoothing your hand over the cover as you stare down at it.

“I hope so. If not, I’ll find something else.”

Sans watches you as you look at the book. It’s so clear how much you love your books; in the reverent way you talk about them and hold them. It’s not lost on him how much it means that you’re giving away your books to them. He appreciates it. Much more than you know.

You look over at your bag on the floor and move to get up and unpack it upstairs in your room. Sans follows your movements with his eyes.

“I’m gonna go upstairs to unpack my bag. If you want you can come too and I can show you around up there as well.”

Sans taps his chin and pretends to think.

“hmmm, not quite sure if i have enough time, i’m pretty booked.” Accented with a well-timed wink as he gets up.

You laugh and it only gets harder as you glance at Papyrus giving you both a glare over the tops of the action figures.

“Sorry, Papyrus. You having fun?”

He brightens up and nods vigorously.

“Yes human! I love your home!”

“I’m glad. Feel free to play with those any time. They really don’t get enough attention.”

“THANK YOU HUMAN!” And he goes back to his activities with renewed enthusiasm.

You grab your ruined backpack with your left hand and start up the stairs carefully so you don’t trip. Sans follows you.

Once at the top, you make a path to your bed and place your bag on the covers, sitting down next to it. You start taking out things. Your computer, miraculously intact, some textbooks, a planner, pens, pencils, wallet, and chargers. Sans starts to walk lazily around your room, spending long moments peering at the posters and pictures you have on the wall. There are watercolor prints, band posters, and even some of your favorite pieces of art in poster-form.

You throw your now-empty bag across the room and the noise attracts Sans’ attention away from your walls. He looks at you and asks a question you were debating to yourself.

“whatcha gonna do with it?”

You lean back on your good arm as you take a moment to think.

“I’ll get a new bag. But I’m gonna burn the old one I think.”

He looks a bit surprised at that, eyebrows raising fractionally.

“why burn?”

“I dunno. Seems satisfying. And I don’t really want to be reminded of the accident ya know? Yeah it was bad, but if you dwell on the bad stuff in your past it kind of keeps you from being… _here_. Like, in the present. I’ll get scars from it, and those will remind me, but I was so lucky and I’d rather focus on the great things that came out of it. Like you guys.”

You look over at him with a soft smile, determination in the lines of your face.

His brow draws together, creasing the otherwise smooth bone of his forehead as he looks away to your posters again, eye-lights flicking back and forth; seeing, but not really seeing as he thinks. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and runs it deliberately over the wood of your dresser; feeling the grain, the lines and whorls of the wood starting and stopping. His phalanges make faint scratching sounds as he drags them across the top.

“even though your life could have ended?”

“Even then. _Especially_ then.”

He puts his hand back in his pocket and doesn’t respond for a minute. Then he nods slowly and turns back to you again, a broad grin on his face now.

“makes sense.”

His smile causes your heart to warm and you remember something specific you wanted to show him up here. You jump up and head over to your window, closing the curtains tight so it’s dark. You then navigate to your nightstand, your hand hovering over a medium-sized black ball on a stand. You motion to your bed.

“Lay down.”

“why?”

“Ugh, just do it bonehead.”

He chuckles and walks SO SLOWLY to your bed, flopping down face first. You groan and lean over your bed to push against his side.

“No, on your back! You gotta roll over.”

“i think i’d rather _loaf_.”

His words are deadened, but when you figure them out, you start wheezing and shove him harder.

His laughs are muffled from the covers as you futilely try to turn him over. His bones feel very thick, but dear lord HOW IS HE SO HEAVY.

You give up and half-yell, “Fine! You won’t get to see the amazingness I have to show you then. I’ll just enjoy it myself.”

You turn and find the switch on the ball and go to lay on the bed next to a still-face-first Sans. You cradle your cast on your stomach and place your left arm behind your head.

“Wow, look at this, too bad you’re missing it lazybones.”

Sans gives a last muted chuckle and finally shifts and rolls over with a huff.

His huff is cut off as he stares at your ceiling, face slack and jaw partially dropped.

“woah.”

“Right?”

Covering your ceiling and walls is a light display. Peppering your room is a section of the night sky; constellations, galaxies, and nebulas in deep infrared colors expand and contract slowly as the globe revolves at a relaxing pace.

“It’s not as great as the real thing obviously, which we can definitely check out sometime, but it gets the job done when you’re not outside.”

“no kiddin’.”

You turn your head and laugh softly at the expression on his face. Eye-sockets wide as he takes in the scene above.

“I thought you might like it. I also thought you might like to have it.”

He turns his head sharply to you, eye-lights burning.

“i can’t take this.”

“You’re not taking; I’m giving.”

“still. you don’t owe me or papyrus anything ya know.”

“I disagree, I owe you everything. And I certainly don’t think this is enough to repay you. I’ll happily be doing that the rest of my life. But. I think this is a nice start.”

You give him a genuine smile, emotions spreading through your body like a wildfire, hoping the thanks and sincerity you feel are translated openly.

His eyes search your face. You look so open and earnest and he feels it. You probably don’t know it, but he senses your soul vibrate with the passion it’s exuding. His soul thrums with that knowledge and once again he feels very lucky to have met you.

A soft smile breaks the serious lines of his face as he looks at you.

“ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT my sweet BBs. Over 100 gd kudos. That is insane to me, THANK YOU SO. MUCH.
> 
> I'm sorry there's been such a gap between updates, but grad school ain't no joke. It won't always be so long, but I really don't know ahead of time. Just keep an eye out.
> 
> SO
> 
> I wrote 2 1/2 more pages for you to make up for it/thank you (it's usually around 8, but 10 1/2 total this time). I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always, I love your wonderful comments, kudos, everything. Stay amazing <3
> 
> Follow or ask me stuff on my tumblr! : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	5. Transmit

“And that one’s the Horsehead Nebula.”

You point your left hand to the ceiling. The oddly shaped form is painted in rich reds and blacks.

“But, my favorite has to be the Eagle Nebula. Inside, there’s a formation called the Pillars of Creation. The name seems a little kitschy and not-at-all humble, but honestly, that’s pretty much exactly what they are. It’s where stars are born. It’s right over there.”

You move your hand and gesture to another section of your ceiling.

Sans angles his head to try and follow your direction.

“where?”

“Hold on.”

You scoot over so that you’re right up against Sans. You rest your head on his shoulder and aim your left arm, stretching out your hand so his line of vision is able to follow your arm up and out.

“Right…there.”

He sees it now. A large cluster of vibrant purples, pinks, reds, and blacks, countered by a smattering of cool blue-ish stars. He watches you trace three vertical lines. Those must be the pillars. The towers of gas are almost in the center; defined and bright. Beautiful in their depth.

“It’s so colorful…. I mean it’s in infrared, but still.”

Sans blinks and starts laughing, deep and slow, then building up to the point where it’s shaking the bed. You turn your head to look at him, eyebrow raising, wondering what is so funny.

He gasps out, “not as colorful as some other things i’ve seen.”

You draw a sharp breath as your mouth opens in shock.

Sans is hysterical now. There’s no helping him. And no helping you as you put your hand over your face and roll over on your front, hiding. You moan out a long “nooooooooo” as you do so.

Sans couldn’t help it. He had to. The rules of comedy demanded it. His laughs finally start dying down and he’s panting as he shifts to his side, head propped up by his left arm and his right starts poking you.

Your muffled voice groans out, “I knew it. There was no way I’d get out of this alive. _I_ wouldn’t let me get out alive.”

He chuckles, “hey, it could be worse. at least you got some nice clothes.”

“Ugh, I guess that’s true. But you’ve seen it all. I’ve got nothing left to hide. There’re no skeletons in my closet other than the one going through my underwear.”

He busts out laughing at that, laying back down on the bed and covering his face in his hands.

You laugh with him and roll back over, settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I hope you realize that this means we’re best friends now. There’s no going back after you’ve seen what you’ve seen.”

He snickers and puts on a faux serious face, grabbing the front of his hoodie in mock anguish.

“i suppose that’s my sacrifice. i shall accept this treacherous duty with all the grace of a lazy skeleton.”

“How very brave of you.”

You feel Sans hum and give a contented sigh. As he’s looking at your ceiling his head settles softly on yours. You both just lay together in silence for several minutes, enjoying each other’s company.

You break the comfortable silence, breathing out a question.

“Do you have a favorite?”

Sans thinks for a moment. Then he stretches out his right arm above the both of you and sweeps it from left to right, encompassing your whole room.

“that one i think.”

You chuckle. “Can’t argue with that. You got good taste.”

“apparently so do you.” He winks at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, an impish glint in your eye.

“Ohoooo I gotcha now, you just admitted to liking what you saw.” Now it was his turn to stammer in mild embarrassment. What you can only guess is a blue blush rises on his cheekbones. You laugh and push him playfully.

“But you better fuckin’ believe I do.” His blush fades and he grins back at you.

You yawn and throw back your left arm behind you, stretching your body from your fingers to your toes like a cat. In the process, your right arm instinctually tries to stretch too and twinges painfully. You give a small cry of pain and shoot up, curling in on yourself and holding your cast to your body.

You’re vaguely aware of Sans immediately rising up and leaning toward you, his hand coming up and gripping your shoulder gently but with a certain firmness.

“hey, you ok?”

You look up and meet his eyes. His face is full of concern, eye-lights darting back and forth across your face.

You give a small smile that’s more of a grimace.

“Yeah, I guess I should just be careful about stretching from now on.”

His eyes flick down to your cast and his hand squeezes your shoulder lightly, thumb massaging small circles through your shirt.

“ya need anything for the pain?”

You frown. You left your medication downstairs.

“That might be a good idea. Just need to go downstairs to get it.” You take a deep breath and start to get up from your bed, but Sans’ hand tightens and forces you back down. You give him a confused stare.

“i’ll get it for ya.”

You shake your head, “Dude, you don’t have to, really.”

Sans gets up and stands over you. He gives you a sly smile as he takes back his hand and puts it in his pocket.

He winks. Was that blue…?

Then blinks out of existence.

Your jaw drops and eyes widen.

Sans appears in your living room next to Papyrus. Papyrus is totally unfazed, engrossed in the action figures.

“WHAT!?” He hears you yell from upstairs.

That gets Papyrus’ attention. He looks at Sans, at first confused, but then the situation dawns on him. He smiles broadly at Sans.

Laughing, Sans moves to the bag on the floor and grabs the pill bottle.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

His laughs get louder as he walks over to your kitchen. He opens several cupboards looking for a glass.

“SANS! SANS, YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT SHIT AND NOT EXPECT ME TO REACT THIS WAY!”

Sans starts wheezing. He finds a glass and fills it up with water, but it takes a little longer due to his hand shaking from laughter. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then his eye flares up, pop-

-ping back in front of you.

“SA-!” You jump at his sudden reappearance, completely dumbfounded.

His toothy grin is huge. Just SO cocky. But he’s still laughing; his eyes soft and filled with mirth as he looks down at you.

He hands you the glass of water, and you accept it without question, jaw still hitting the floor.

With a smug expression, he leans down a little and with his free hand, brings it up under your chin; the smooth bone of his fingers sliding against your jaw as he pushes it closed.

“maybe it was exactly the way i thought you’d react.”

After a beat, he takes his hand away and you burst into laughter, momentarily placing the glass on the dresser behind Sans so you don’t spill it. 

“Holy shit Sans. What even just happened? Can you fucking TELEPORT?”

His laughs mirror your own as he begins to open the pill bottle for you.

“kinda, yeah.”

“I have so many questions.”

“i may or may not have so many answers.”

“Well how the hell does it work? Is it magic? Do you bend space-time? Is it like a door you just step through? Fuck, man.”

He chuckles and says, “well there is definitely no fucking involved.”

You laugh loudly. He brings the bottle up to his face, reading the instructions carefully. He shakes two pills onto his palm. After, he tilts his head and stares off into space for a moment before turning his attention back to you, a coy smile on his face.

“it’s more like…falling, with style.”

You slap your hand over your face and fall back on your bed.

“Oh my fuck.”

You throw your left arm out against the covers of your bed and just lay there, taking in the extremely abrupt introduction of teleportation into your life.

Sans laughs quietly as he sees you just existing now on your bed. He places the now closed pill bottle on your dresser, taking up the glass and walking around the side of your bed. He sits down next to you.

“who’s the lazybones now. here.” He drops the pills into your open hand. Your fingers weakly close around them.

Sans gives a last chuckle before concern forces a more serious look to pass across his face.

“how’s your arm?”

You open your eyes, shifting them to his. You move your cast closer to your body.

“Still hurts a bit, but it’s better.”

He leans over you, his eyes briefly meeting yours for permission. You blink, trust implicit in your gaze. His hand reaches up to your scalp, gently fingering the area around your stitches. He examines it, making sure everything _looks_ ok. His eye-lights flick down to yours.

“and your head?”

You close your eyes, sighing deeply. His touches barely brush your skin, they’re so feather-light. But even the minimal contact fills that need for social connection to something. Anything.

“’Bout the same. But that does feel nice.”

You open your eyes and see him giving you a shrewd smile.

“the price of head-rubs is taking your pills.”

“Not much of a price since I was gonna do it anyway, so I’ll do you one better. A head-rub for a head-rub. I’ll give you yours first as a show of good faith.”

His eye-sockets grow large in surprise. He didn’t expect that.

“huh? ya don’t have to.”

“Why not? Head-rubs are awesome; everyone should get them. Literally all the time.”

You look at him questioningly. “Have you ever had one before?”

He scratches the back of his head and gives you a sideways glance.

“not exactly.”

Your eyes light up with the realization.

“Then you HAVE to have one. It will change your life. By the time I’m done with you, I will have created an actual monster.” You wink at him and he laughs at that, smiling at you.

You quickly throw the pills in your mouth, take the glass from his hand and chug the water. Once you’re done, you set it down on your nightstand. You shift and start wiggling so your back is propped against the pillows and backboard of your bed. You cross your legs and grab another pillow, placing it on your lap. You rapidly pat the pillow-top excitedly, motioning for him to come over.

Sans’ grin is wide and lifted by both a sense of excitement and trepidation. He crawls toward you, eyes locked with yours until he turns himself on his back, placing his skull on the pillow in your lap. He folds his hands on top of his chest. His body is a little tense.

You give a squeak of excitement. “Relax. You’re gonna love this. I only wish I could use both hands.”

You quickly take off the ring placed on your first finger and raise your left hand and bring it up to his skull, softly placing your fingertips on his crown. You begin twisting them in small circles.

Sans gives an almost imperceptible sigh and you see his body relax, the tension slowly but surely leaving his bones.

As you rotate your fingers, you start applying pressure. Sans must like it because his grin softens into a blissful smile. His expression soothes your soul and causes you to smile down at him. The texture of his bones always amazes you. They’re almost velvety, but at the same time, rough, with divots and scratches littering the surface. They’re cool and then they’re warm. Like the sun on your face on a cold day.

He’s just…very much alive.

Your fingers branch out wider and contract inward, sliding smoothly against his skull. After several minutes of this, you decide to shake it up. You lower your full palm onto his skull.

His breath hitches.

You stroke the breadth of his skull in long sweeps, varying the pressure as you go. Your fingers glide along each temple, pushing and pulling. As they go from side-to-side they caress his brow-bones. You take your thumb and rub back and forth; all the way from the back of his skull to the front, in between his eyes. You keep up this pattern for what seems like an hour.

You finally look up from his skull and notice his deep, steady breaths. You didn’t even realize it, you were so engrossed in your actions.

He fell asleep.

You chuckle and look down fondly at his calm face. Hell, you don’t blame him. You would totally fall asleep too; head-rubs are magical that way. You’re just glad he enjoyed it. Your hand stops its ministrations and lays still on his head, except your thumb, which rubs languid circles on his skull.

You recline back against the pillows, resting your head on the wood of your backboard. You close your eyes, content.

You feel a bony hand carefully wrap around your wrist.

A rough voice mumbles, “don’t stop.”

You smile and laugh silently. You lean forward over him, your face and hair hanging over his. He opens his eyes lazily. They’re half-lidded from sleep and comfort. His eye-lights dim and brighten, trying to focus on you.

You beam at him, a little smug. “Like it?”

He lets go of your wrist and reaches up to your face. He gently cups your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Your eyes widen.

“eh, it was alright.”

You sputter and laugh. “Everyone’s a critic.” But you wink at him and turn your cheek into his palm. “Told you I’d make a monster.”

He exhales happily.

“i’d gladly be a monster for head-rubs anytime.”

You giggle and pull away, his hand dropping from your face.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

He just hums and lays there. But you pat his skull and he tilts his head back into the pillow to look at you.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and watch a movie with Papyrus? I’d feel bad if he just played with toys all day. I mean he totally could, and it’d be awesome. But variety is the spice of life.”

Sans chuckles and nods at you.

“good idea.”

He gets up first, sliding across the bed and up off the mattress. He turns and extends a hand to you. You grab it tightly and scooch your way to the side of the bed. Sans hoists you up.

You move to let go of his hand, but he suddenly grips yours harder. Your puzzled gaze meets his gleaming, suspiciously excited one.

“wanna try something?”

It doesn’t take long for your mind to make the connection. Enthusiasm shines across your face at his implication. You return his grip.

“I thought you’d never fucking ask.”

A confident smile graces his face and he pulls you close, still holding onto your hand. His other arm snakes its way around your waist, fingers clasping your side. You aren’t very tall, but he’s about your height, if not a tiny bit shorter, so his eye-level meets yours comfortably as he peers at you reassuringly.

“ok, hold on. keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.”

You give a nervous chuckle as a thought hastily crosses your mind. Sans feels you tense up and he raises his brows at you.

“Hey Sans, wait a sec, I have a quick question. Will it hurt?”

He squeezes you to him slightly, shaking his head.

“no. don’t worry. it’ll definitely feel weird and you might feel sick after, but i wouldn’t offer if it could ever hurt you. just don’t let go of me.”

Your worries vanish, and you feel completely safe. All that’s left is the excitement and anticipation. You grin.

“Let’s do it.”

He smiles at you and you press your body against him.

“alright, get ready. in 3, 2, ….” You see his left eye-socket flare to life, cyan and yellow flames licking the air.

“1.”

You hear a loud pop and you’re falling. Your stomach lurches and drops. The air leaves your lungs and your heart is in your throat. Your eyes shut tight. A distinct feeling of weightlessness floods your body… and then your feet touch hard ground again.

As soon as Sans entered the void, he felt you stiffen and clutch at him with a desperation born of fear and the unknown. He holds you tightly to him as you both fall back into existence. He feels you struggle to catch your breath and he tightens his arms around you, rubbing your back. He presses his head against yours and whispers low into your ear.

“shhh, it’s ok. you’re fine. just breathe.”

Your hand and arm are gripping Sans so tightly that you’re practically hugging him. You feel his spine and the ribs along his back. Your fingers clench his hoodie as you force air into your lungs. You feel him hug you closer and murmur reassurances into your ear in a deep soothing voice. You start to breathe and relax slightly.

Sans feels you release the tension, content that you’re able to breathe again.

Then he feels you shaking.

Worry latches onto his soul like a vice and he asks you urgently, “hey, ___, you ok? can you breathe?”

And then he hears it. He pulls back and looks at your ecstatic face, breathless laughs escaping your lips.

“Sans! Oh my god… holy shit, I just teleported. That was incredible!”

You jump back into his arms for a hug and yell, “PAPYRUS DID YOU SEE THAT? I just TELEPORTED!”

Papyrus had been watching you and Sans from his place on the floor. He was a bit worried for your safety at first, but he trusted Sans to take care of you. Now he couldn’t help but share your excitement. He throws up his hands in victory.

“I SAW, HUMAN! YOU DID WONDERFULLY!”

Sans gives his brother a happy and thankful look across your shoulder. Relief floods his soul, causing him to laugh and pick you up, spinning you around.

“yeah ya did, kid.”

He finally sets you down and you let go of him, giving a huge exhale and an exhausted whoop.

“Wow,” you say as you make your way to the couch, practically melting into the cushions.

Sans follows your example and sits down heavily next to you.

You look over at Papyrus and give him a tired smile.

“Hey Papyrus, why don’t you pick out a movie for all of us to watch?”

His excitement grows, if that’s possible. He moves quickly to the shelves that hold your DVDs. He peruses them efficiently and gives a shout of recognition when he finds one, pulling it out from the lineup.

“HUMAN AND SANS! Would you like to watch a Mettaton movie?”

You smile and throw up your left hand in a thumbs up.

“Hell yeah Papyrus.”

“sure bro.”

Papyrus nods emphatically and you get up from the couch to set up the DVD player. You take the DVD from him as he moves to sit on the couch opposite from Sans. You turn on the TV and press play. You rise and cross the room to turn the lights off, then head back over to the couch, settling in between Sans and Papyrus.

You’re able to pay attention to the movie for the most part, but the darkness of the room and the comfortably domestic atmosphere start lulling you to sleep. You weakly fight your exhaustion to try and stay awake, but all the excitement and emotions from today finally get to you. Your eyes slip closed and your head falls to the side. Your breaths even out and deepen.

Sans notices your silence and glances over at you. His eyes soften. He sees you nearly leaning on Papyrus; notices the steady rising and falling of your chest.

“hey paps.”

“Hmm?” Papyrus tears his eyes away from the screen and looks over at Sans, who pointedly shifts his gaze between him and you.

“should we put ‘em to bed?”

Papyrus smiles fondly down at you and nods. “Yes, I think so brother. Take them upstairs and I will clean up down here.”

Sans returns his nod. They both get up; Papyrus turning the movie off and picking up the books and figurines on the floor. Sans turns to you. You still hadn’t woken up. You must be beat.

He leans down over you, one leg on the floor and one on the seat. He slides one arm underneath your legs and the other around your back. Grunting, he lifts you up as evenly as he can, minding your cast, and draws you close to him, cradling you to his chest. Your head lolls forward and to the side, resting against his ribs. You grumble a little but settle down. His fingers tighten on your sides.

He walks slowly across the living room and starts ascending the stairs. He arrives at the top and heads to your bed. His eye comes to life and moves the covers back. He lowers you down, making sure your head is comfortably on the pillows. You make soft annoyed noises and your fingers lightly grip the fabric of his hoodie, not wanting to let go. He chuckles quietly and deftly removes your hand, placing it by your side. He grabs the covers and slides them up to your chin.

He shoves his hands back in his hoodie pockets as he eyes you for several moments. Your face has relaxed, the lines smoothing. Your hair spreads out partly on the pillow and over your eyes.

It looks so soft….

Sans bends down slightly and removes his right hand from his pocket. His fingers lightly comb the strands back from your face, and smooth them down with the rest of your hair.

His hand tenderly strokes your cheekbone, faintly brushing a cut, fingertips buzzing….

Sans pulls his hand back and walks back downstairs.

Papyrus is waiting at the foot of the stairs. Sans approaches and grins up at his brother.

“all taken care of.”

Papyrus crosses his arms cheekily and pops out his hip. He gives his brother a mischievous smile and audibly winks.

“Oh, I’m SURE they are, Sans. WELL TAKEN CARE OF.”

Sans blushes mildly and laughs at his brother, giving him a light punch on the arm. He passes by Papyrus and shrugs.

“what can i say. i like to help out. no _bones_ about it.”

Papyrus grabs his skull, silently fuming. “You are SO lucky our friend is sleeping, or I would…. I do not know, but it would be SOMETHING, brother.”

Sans continues to laugh and they both step outside the door, locking it behind them. They head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headrubs ARE magical.
> 
> I got another chapter up! This one was loooong as well, but was so much fun to write that I started straight into the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I swear, you all brighten my day with your comments and kudos. Thank you. You're the best my BBs. Until next time <3
> 
> Follow or ask me stuff on my tumblr! : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/ (I'll try posting more stuff, I'm bad about it)


	6. Ignite

Your eyes open. They take in the blurry surroundings.

Most importantly the pool of saliva under your cheek.

“Ughh…”

You open and close your mouth, trying to get the fuzzy feeling off your tongue. It’s like a furby nested in there. Gross.

You roll your head over and bring up your left hand to wipe the side of your face. You flip over your pillow to the blissfully cool, and not-at-all wet side. You lay your head back down and rub your sleepy eyes.

Now that you’re somewhat awake, you finally realize you’re in your bed. You squint, brow furrowing. How’d you get here? Did you fall asleep on Sans and Papyrus during the movie? You groan softly. Amateur move, ___, good going. You’ll have to text them to apologize. And thank whoever carried you upstairs.

You slowly lift yourself up and run your fingers through your hair. A disgusted look twists your features. God, your hair is so greasy. You can’t wait any longer.

You must take a shower.

You move your legs to the side of the bed and push yourself up and off. You stumble to your closet and grab a pair of leggings, underwear, tank top and a sweater. You throw them on your bed as you make your way to your bathroom.

Once inside, a thought comes to you. You can’t get your cast wet. You bend down and rummage under your sink for a plastic bag. You can only hope your stitches are able to hold up as you wash your hair. You turn towards your shower and throw on the hot water.

You grab a towel from your linen closet and start to strip down. You tie the bag over your cast and step in the shower, holding your right arm as much out of the way of the water stream as you can.

Dear lord, the water feels so good.

Taking a shower does two things for you as you stand there, just taking it in. It washes away your accident and hospital visit, as well as reminding you how much you love the water. You can’t wait to start up your swimming again once your arm heals.

Your thoughts drift to the skeleton brothers. You have so much fun when you’re with them. You’ve barely known them a week and it already feels like you’ve known them for months, if not years. You guess that’s what happens when people save your life. Papyrus and his never-ending enthusiasm is so endearing and charming. Not to mention he’s the sweetest soul you’ve ever known. Sans, on the other hand, is quiet. But you get the impression that he really does seem to care. Or at least he’s trying to care. His humor hits you in all the right ways and you’re happy he’s been able to open up more to you. He seems so closed off. But you were pleasantly surprised he was so receptive to you. You’re just very grateful for them both. And it makes you happy that you can make them laugh and feel welcome and like they have a friend in you should they ever want or need one.

You finish cleaning up and at this point the water is starting to get cold. You reluctantly shut the shower off.

Stepping out, you grab your towel and dry yourself off, wrapping it around you.

You take the bag off your cast and look down to make sure it didn’t get wet. As you do, you start to really look at what Papyrus doodled. There are scribbles of houses and trees and figures dotting the surface in varying colors. Laughing out loud and running your hand over them, you pick out Papyrus, Sans and yourself. There are some other people there too, but you don’t recognize them. Maybe some of their other friends. And then there’s Sans’ messy handwriting of just his name. You give a short laugh at that.

Seeing the doodles fills you with joy and a budding fondness that you can only describe as love.

You quickly brush your hair. You walk out to your bedroom and begin to get dressed. Comfy was the name of the game for today. You needed to get some shit done. Adult shit.

First, you create your list:

  * Make coffee
  * Call the impound lot about your truck
  * Call the insurance company
  * Die from responsibility



After begrudgingly making your mental list and wrestling on your sweater, you grab your phone and head downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee. You pour the grounds into your French press and fill the kettle, placing it on the burner. All you have to do now is wait. So you go and sit down at your kitchen table, taking out your phone.

You text Papyrus first:

**_\- Morning Pap. Sorry I fell asleep on you and Sans last night, but thank you for helping clean up. :)_ **

**_-_ ** **GOOD MORNING HUMAN! DO NOT WORRY, YOU WERE TIRED AND WE WERE HAPPY TO HELP! I HAVE TO WORK TODAY, BUT MY BROTHER DOES NOT. YOU SHOULD KEEP HIM COMPANY.**

**-** _**I think I just might do that. Have a good day at work!**_

**\- THANK YOU HUMAN!**

You smile. Papyrus is so damn sweet. You text Sans next:

**_\- Morning Sans. Sorry I fell asleep on y’all last night. But thanks for taking care of stuff._ **

_\- mornin. no prob_

**_\- How’d I get upstairs btw?_ **

_\- carried ya._

**_\- No you did not._ **

_\- u callin’ me a liar._

**_\- Well I ain’t callin’ you a truther lol. I just didn’t think you would._ **

_\- im offended. consider this best-friendship over._

**_\- Sans_ **

**_\- Saaaaaaaaans_ **

**_\- Sansansansansansansansansansans_ **

**_\- Papyrus told me to keep you company today. Wanna hang?_ **

_\- sure._

**_\- Cool. Wanna meet in a couple hours?_ **

_\- sounds good. need me to pick u up?_

**_\- Nah I can grab a cab._ **

_\- ok i’ll pick u up_

**_\- No Sans, you don’t have to_ **

_\- im glad u agree with me_

**_\- Ugh SANS_ **

_\- c u in 2 hours_

**_\- OK FINE THANKS_ **

_\- ;)_

You groan loudly, but with a smile on your face. You resolve to buy him coffee or lunch wherever you go today. You’re startled by a high-pitched whistle growing in volume. You jump up and grab the kettle before it gets too loud, shutting the burner off. You pour the hot water into the press and grab a mug while the grounds steep. After a few minutes, you place the sieve in the container and press down.

You pour the delicious coffee in the mug as well as stirring in some cream and sugar. You pick up the mug and bring it to your lips, blowing softly across the surface of the coffee. You take a sip and immediately sigh, closing your eyes. A sense of comfort fills you as the coffee warms you from the inside all the way out to your fingertips.

Is there anything better than coffee? Probably not.

You clutch the mug to your chest.

“I’ll always have you, coffee. My one true love.”

You move back to the table and sit down. You look at your phone again, dreading the conversations to come. You take one last sip of the coffee before you look up the lot and number. You exhale.

“You can do this. Please, PLEASE let everything turn out ok.”

You press call.

 ----------------

Everything, shockingly, turned out better than expected. Disaster averted.

The bad news was your truck was totaled. There really was no salvaging it, so you ended up selling it to the junkyard for parts. Your heart hurt a bit as you did so. That truck was your grandfather’s, given to you after he had passed away. You curse that damn deer. But you always knew that truck was sturdy. And all things considered, you think to yourself, it’s last act was saving your life, and you’re sure your grandfather would be happy to see it kept you safe.

After you had gotten off the phone with the lot, you called the insurance company. You were extremely not looking forward to that call. You hate dealing with them, they all seem like vultures, rolling around in the misery and money of others.

But, that also turned out alright in the end. You were covered and they would front most of the cost of a replacement vehicle. You had some money in the bank to spend for the remainder, so that eased your worries somewhat.

After getting off the phone, you still had some time before Sans showed up. You refill your coffee mug and step out of the kitchen. You set your coffee on the table and walk over to your bookshelf, grabbing a book. You were taking some classes on photography and you wanted to read up on an exhibition called “the New Topographics.”

You head over to the door and flip the lock so Sans could let himself in. You walk back to your couch and settle into the cushions, tucking your legs underneath you. You open the book and balance it on your knees and lean over and grab your coffee. You start reading and looking at the photographs.

About fifteen minutes later, you’re startled out of your thoughts by some lazy-sounding knocks.

You yell, “Come in, the door’s open!”

The knob turns, and the door is pushed open. In strolls Sans, characteristic smile, hoodie, gym shorts, and…uncharacteristic sneakers. He turns his head, eyes locking on to you. His grin widens as he shuts the door.

“ya probably shouldn’t keep your door unlocked.”

You shrug. “Well I knew you were comin’. I’d have to have pretty bad luck for some evil-doer to come knocking on my door just as I was expecting someone.” You laugh.

He chuckles a bit, but gives you a sidelong glance.

“still. ya never know. monsters exist. and i’m not talkin’ about the totally awesome one standin’ in front of you.”

You nod gravely and say, hoping to placate him, “I promise I’ll keep the door locked from now on.”

He gives you a genuine smile, obviously satisfied with your answer.

You gesture with your coffee to the kitchen. “I dunno if you like coffee, but there’s some in the kitchen for you if you want.”

His eyes brighten. He must like coffee. You knew you liked Sans for SOME reason.

“great.”

He crosses the living room, but not before going out of his way to flip your book closed.

You shout, a shocked grin on your face, “Hey!”

He laughs and saunters into the kitchen, grabbing a mug from your cabinet and pouring himself a cup. He comes out and sits down on your right.

You give a half-annoyed huff as you set your coffee down on the table. You glower at him pointedly as you emphatically open your book back to the page you were on. You reach back over for your coffee.

He’s leisurely looking at you, a satisfied smile on his face.

“how ya feelin’ today?”

You hum, “Muuuuuuch better. The meds helped a lot, and I took a shower this morning. I don’t feel as gross today, which is _great_.”

You snuggle back into the cushions and take a sip of your coffee.

Sans gives you a very playful smile and leans toward you. “well ya don’t look as gross today that’s for sure.”

You look at him in shock and start wheezing with laughter. You set down your coffee and punch him on the shoulder.

“You dick, I can’t even be mad, that was too perfect. Left myself wide open for that.”

He laughs with you and throws his arm behind your back, ruffling your hair softly before taking it back.

“nah, just messin’. ya look good.”

You look at him, inspecting his face as he takes a swig of his coffee. He has faint dark circles under his eye-sockets and you wonder if he sleeps well.

“How’d you sleep?”

He keeps his eyes trained forward as he answers, “alright.”

You give him an unimpressed look.

“Do I need to call you a liar again?”

He chuckles half-heartedly and looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“ya caught me. i don’t sleep well sometimes. that’s normal, right?”

“The fact you have to ask if it’s normal, says it’s not.”

He closes his eyes and gives a half-laugh. “guess not then.”

“How come you don’t sleep well?”

He sighs. “long story. just have nightmares sometimes. i’ll tell ya about it…one day.” His eyes meet yours and you sense him pleading with you to drop it.

You wish he would talk to you about whatever it is. It can’t be healthy to keep it to himself. But you respect his space. If all he needs and wants is just company right now, then you’re content to be that for him.

You shrug and flash him a small smile. “Whatever you want. Just know I’ll always be here to listen and be a shoulder for you whenever you wanna talk.” You shift closer so you’re up against him.

The contact makes him relax a bit and you can feel it.

You say offhandedly, “If you ever get one in the future, feel free to text me and I’ll do my best to take your mind off things. Doesn’t matter the time of night. I can’t say I’ll always wake up to respond, but the offer’s there.” You take a sip of your coffee and go back to reading.

He leans into your shoulder and murmurs, “thanks ___. i appreciate it.”

You smile up at him. “Don’t mention it.”

He smiles back at you. A part of him wants to tell you. Anyone really. But. A more poisonous side of him wants to keep it bottled up forever. Maybe it’ll go away on its own. In his soul, Sans doubts it, even though they have been getting better. What you said the other day had an impact on him. He’s trying. If not for himself, then for Papyrus. It’s not fair to him, to see his brother wasting away, plagued by things Papyrus doesn’t even know about or can begin to understand. Papyrus is far, SO far from stupid, but there are some things that even Sans has trouble understanding. And he’s the one _aware_ of it. Knowing your whole life up to a certain point has been some sick static replay is hard to wrap your mind around. Especially for someone as optimistic as Papyrus. He just wants Papyrus safe and happy.

But knowing there are people out there, other than his friends and family, that could possibly care what he feels or experiences, gives him hope. You’re quickly becoming a fast friend to him, and to Papyrus. And he finds himself wanting to try for you too.

He turns his head and looks down at the book you have in your lap.

“whatcha readin’?”

You flip the book over, thumb still holding your page.

“It’s a book on a photographic exhibition called the ‘New Topographics.’ The exhibition was kind of a turning point for landscape photography in America.”

“sounds _ground_ -breaking.”

You bark out a laugh as he holds his hand out.

“may i?”

“Sure.” You hand him the book.

He puts his mug down on the coffee table and starts thumbing through the pages. His bony hands slide over the pages, smoothing them as he turns each one.

He asks, not taking his eyes from the pages, “this is what you study?”

“Yeah. I’m taking a couple classes on photography this semester. I don’t know anything about it, so I thought it’d be fun to learn. I’m liking what these guys did so far at least.”

He nods slowly as he continues flipping through the book. He comes to rest on a smattering of black and white and color images.

You peer over his arm, smiling. “You like those?”

“yeah.” He touches the pages, reading the captions.

“Me too. Those are some of my favorites actually. Stephen Shore and Frank Gohlke. Shore’s colors seem…rich. Gohlke’s…. Hmm. It’s hard to put into words.” You sweep your arm out, face scrunching in concentration.

“It makes me feel….”

“small.”

You turn your head swiftly to him and grab his arm. He meets your gaze with an understanding smile.

“YES. That’s exactly it. Small. But not in a bad way. In a good way. It’s the same kind of feeling I get when I look at stars. A sense of awe.”

Sans fixes his eye-lights on you. Your smile lifts up your eyes, wrinkling your face. The bones of his face relax as he shares your enthusiasm.

“exactly.”

You squeeze his arm.

“I knew you had good taste. And speaking of taste. Are you hungry? Cuz I’m famished. Look at me, I almost look like you, just skin and bones.” You pat his strangely round gut.

He laughs hard at that. He nods.

“yeah. i know a place.”

“Sweet. I’m buying.”

You rise from the couch and grab your mug and Sans’ and walk to the kitchen, placing them in the sink. You shout from the kitchen.

“This place, do I need to change into something more presentable?”

He raises his voice to answer, “nah, ya look great. it’s pretty casual.”

Once you’re done, you walk back into the living room. Sans is still on the couch.

“I gotta run upstairs to get my stuff. Be down in a minute.”

You head up the stairs and slip on your sandals and root around for the sling the doctor gave you. You normally wouldn’t wear it, but you didn’t want to tire your arm out by holding it up all day. You place it around your cast and pull the strap over your head and across your body, tightening it once it’s situated. You then grab your wallet, keys, and the pain pills and slide them into your purse just in case.

Turning around in a circle, you make sure you’ve gotten everything. You head downstairs. Sans is waiting for you by the front door. His eyes glance at your sling.

“what’s that?”

“Oh, just a sling. It’ll keep me from having to hold up my cast all day.”

He raises an eyebrow and nods. He smiles at you.

“ready to go?”

“Yep!”

He opens the door and you follow him out, locking it behind you. You turn and get into the red sports car as Sans starts it up, engine roaring to life. He backs out and heads towards downtown.

You look over at Sans.

“So what’s this place?”

“a bar, called Grillby’s. hope you’re ok with that.”

“No that’s perfect. I love bars. They have the best food sometimes.”

He grins wider. “you’ll love it then. best burgers in town.”

You sink into the seat and throw your head back against the headrest, eyes closed. You put your hand over your stomach. “Oh man, a burger sounds fucking fantastic. Especially after gross hospital food.”

He laughs and pulls into a small parking lot next to an equally small building. Awesome. It’s not far from your place at all.

You both get out of the car and head over to the bar. He opens the door and you follow him inside. You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

It’s so welcoming. The warmth fills you and has you breathing in deeply the smell of hearth-smoke. The wood paneling and dark, mellow colors blend together into a very comfortable atmosphere. It reminds you a lot of your grandfather’s old house. A brief glint of sadness passes through your heart, but it’s overshadowed by peaceful nostalgia.

Sans looks back at you, wondering why you’ve stopped.

He watches you take it all in, an extremely pleased expression on your face; eyes gleaming. Your soul is so content in this moment, except for an infinitesimal spark of hurt. He wonders at that, but he’s happy you like the place so much.

You grin at him as you come up beside him.

“I love this place. Where you wanna sit?”

He shares your smile. “the bar sound good?”

You nod eagerly.

He leads you to the bar, passing groups of monsters, who turn to look at you, interested in why a human is here. Sans waves at them as he walks by. You approach the bar, where a smartly-dressed flame elemental stands wiping glasses with a rag. He looks up at you both through his glasses as you seat yourselves.

Sans salutes him, “hey grillby. i want ya to meet my friend. this is ___.”

Grillby looks over at you. You smile and extend your left hand. “Um, Sans is a liar. I’m his _best_ friend, ___.”

Sans busts out laughing. Grillby makes a sound like the crackling of burning wood. It must be his laugh. You love it. He takes your hand and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, ___. I’m Grillby.”

His hand isn’t hot, but pleasantly warm, like the glow around a fire. His voice is breathy and sibilant, reminding you of when the wind blows through a campfire, sending up sparks and embers into the sky. It’s lovely.

“I’m so honored to meet the owner. I love your place.”

“Thank you. You’re welcome here any time. Any friend of Sans’ is a friend of mine.”

You beam back at him and lean forward, putting your elbow on the bar.

“Now, I heard from Sans that you have the best burgers in town. I know Sans said it, but is this too tall of an order to fill?”

Sans’ jaw drops and he throws his head on his crossed arms, trying to hold back his laughter.

Grillby glows brightly and crackles in delight. He looks at you with a friendly expression.

“How about I get you one and you can try for yourself?”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

He looks over at Sans, who hasn’t stopped laughing. “The regular?”

Sans gives him a thumbs up.

Grillby disappears into the back to get your food.

You look over at Sans with a huge smile on your face. He takes a deep breath and raises his head, wiping small cyan tears from the corner of his eye.

“i knew i liked ya for a reason.”

You scoff playfully. “Well duh, I _am_ your best friend after all.”

He chuckles again as Grillby comes out with your food, setting it in front of you. A burger for both of you as well as a whole bottle of ketchup in front of Sans.

“Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

“thanks grillby.”

He nods and goes to attend the other customers. You pick up your burger and bite into it. Juices and flavor explodes in your mouth. This might be the best thing ever, much less the best burger in town.

You stare at Sans wide-eyed, holding up your burger. Mouth still full, you force out an emphatic response.

“I think thish ish the besht thing I’ve ever had.”

Sans laughs and winks at you. “told ya.” And then he takes a long swig of the ketchup.

You chew slowly and swallow as you look at him with your eyebrow raised. You shrug and go back to your burger.

He laughs. “not gonna ask?”

“Nah. I’ve seen weirder shit. You do you.”

“weirder than a skeleton drinking ketchup?”

You give him a sidelong glance. “Please, I’ve gone to college.”

He laughs harder and you join him.

You both finish your burgers and Grillby comes back over to collect your plates.

Grillby asks, “What’s your verdict?”

“Those burgers were so delicious, I could kiss you.”

He laughs, face glowing substantially brighter than it was.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But they were fantastic. I’m surprised there aren’t more people here. It’s such a great place.”

Grillby looks around the bar. “Thank you for your kind words. I believe it might be because my customers are primarily monsterkind.”

You frown. “That shouldn’t matter.”

He gives you what you think is a sad smile. His flames cool and dim slightly. “I know. But it does. Not to everyone, but enough.”

You reach over the bar with your hand and grasp his, squeezing it slightly. You smile at him.

“Well it’s their loss. You’re amazing.”

His flames illuminate again and he squeezes your hand back, tilting his head down in acknowledgement.

“Thank you. So are you.”

 You release his hand and reach into your purse to pay. You pull out a sum of cash. Much more than the cost of your meals. You place it on the bar, hand still covering it. You give Grillby a serious look. Sans is fixated on you.

“Keep the change.”

You slide over the money to him. He looks down and moves quickly to speak. But you cut him off before he can.

“Please.”

His flames spark and pop and finally calm down. He nods to you. You smile.

“Thanks again for lunch Grillby!” You wave to him as you slide off the chair, making your way to the door. Sans shoots Grillby a quick glance.

“thanks grillby. see ya later.” He follows you outside.

You turn to Sans once the door closes. “Thanks for suggesting Grillby’s for food. It was great. We’ll definitely have to come back.”

He looks at you for a long moment. The concentrated look in his eye betrays his ever-present grin. You look away, an indescribable feeling weaving its way through your heart.

“Just so you know, it wasn’t out of pity or a sense of guilt. I paid Grillby what I thought he deserves. Everyone needs some help sometimes. So you can probably stop looking at me like that now.”

Sans’ face softens. He grabs your hand tight. You turn to him again, resigned.

“i’m not angry ya know.”

You examine his face to see if he’s being truthful with you. His eyes are full of concern, seriousness, and a touch of sadness.

“I hope not.”

He presses his fingers into the flesh of your hand.

“i’m not. you would know if i’m angry. i just…wish all humans were like you.”

You sigh and squeeze his hand back. “Me too.”

Exhaling and shaking your shoulders, you let go of his hand and circle to his right side. You loop your left arm around his right and give him a happy smile.

“Enough of this sad shit. Let’s go look around at some stores downtown. You down?”

He chuckles and pulls you close, the tension ebbing from his body, a real grin back on his face.

“sure.”

You both start walking at a slow pace, going in and out of stores as you make your way downtown. You’ve been having a great time, but it’s starting to get late and you both decide you should head back to the car, which is some ways back.

You and Sans walk side-by-side, hands in your respective pockets. You spot a man walking down the sidewalk towards you both and you move over a little so he can pass. You don’t see it, but Sans tenses up, eye-lights dimming. As the man walks by, he deliberately bumps into your right arm. _Hard_.

“Ow, fuck!”

You stumble a bit as you grab onto your arm. Sans catches and rights you.

“you ok?”

His voice is gravelly and deep, full of worry and anger.

You grimace in pain and look up at him. His eye-lights are gone. Sockets depthless and dark.

You steady yourself and whirl around to the man, who’s half-turned, sneering at the both of you.

“Hey watch out, man!”

He spits on the ground and says over his shoulder as he starts to walk away, “You should be the one ta watch out, monster-loving bitch.”

Your temper flares, white-hot fury spreading through your body. Sans grits his teeth as a growl rumbles deep in his chest. He senses you winding up and his rage is tempered by a feeling of alarm. His hand grabs your left arm, rigid.

“___. don’t.”

You don’t hear him over the pounding of blood in your ears. You yell back, “Oh yeah, so what? You’re the only bitch I see. Fuckin’ fight me, you racist piece of shit! Or do you not have the balls to accompany that tiny dick of yours?”

He stops abruptly and whips back around. His eyes wide in anger.

You laugh at him and instantly grab Sans’ hand. Waiting. Your temper always did get you in trouble.

That’s when he begins running back towards you.

You give a sharp tug on Sans’ hand and start sprinting away, Sans in tow. He follows quickly. For being pretty lazy, he can sure move when he wants to. You release his hand so you can pump your arm as you run. Panting, you look over at Sans, who’s huffing as well, eye-sockets still black.

“got a plan, genius?”

You spare a look over your shoulder at the man chasing after you. He’s very slowly gaining on you. But he might run out of steam soon. You don’t want to take that chance though. Not with Sans.

“Yeah, now might be a good time to teleport.”

He grunts and his hand shoots out to grab yours securely, almost hurting with how hard he’s holding it.

He looks over at you, his left eye snapping back to life, the blue and yellow flames growing rapidly. His brow furrows, and your eyes widen.

“don’t you dare let go!”

And you both fall into the void, leaving the angry and now very confused man behind.

 ---------------- 

You and Sans fall back into existence right next to the car.

You rip your hand from Sans’ as you lurch forward, moving to brace yourself against your knee. You hastily try to orient yourself. You gulp large breaths, trying to slow down your racing heartbeat. Mental note. Don’t teleport while running.

You see Sans’ sneakers come into view and his hands grasp your shoulders, pulling you up a little harshly. Still panting and now feeling slightly nauseated, you look into Sans’ face. Your stomach twists. His sockets are still empty and fathomless. Brow still drawn together in barely-contained rage.

He grinds out. “are you ok.”

You nod, still breathless.

He closes his eyes for a second, and then they open again, scowling at you.

“get in the car. need to get away from here. can you walk?”

You nod again as you make your way to your door, dread settling deep inside your chest.

He turns the car on quickly and as soon as you’re buckled in, he peels out of the parking lot, heading back to your place.

He’s staring hard out at the road, hands clenching the steering wheel.

You shove your hand into your pocket, fiddling with the fabric. You sink deep into the seat, trying to make yourself small.

You sigh and brace yourself, turning your head to him.

“You’re angry.”

He turns his head sharply in your direction, glaring. His sockets are trained on you, left eye briefly glowing. When he speaks it sounds like his voice has dropped an octave, resonating deeply inside you. A chill runs down your spine, fear finding its way into your heart.

“ _is it obvious n o w?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C L I F F H A N G E R
> 
> Man, this has been the longest chapter to date. 14 1/2 heckin' pages. Phew. Idk if it's too long, but I didn't feel like splitting it up. Nowhere felt right to me. So you get a long ass chapter.
> 
> I'll post the next in a couple days, or sooner, WHO KNOWS. But it gets REAL. So be prepared.
> 
> As always thank you for the comments and kudos and everything you are, my BBs!
> 
> (also as always) Follow or ask me stuff on my tumblrrrrr : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	7. Vent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, BBs. It gets a little dark after the break.
> 
> Trigger warning: depiction of assault
> 
> sorrynotsorry...

You cringe backward, but don’t break eye contact with him. If your parents taught you anything, it was to be strong.

He’s still glaring at you, though his left eye has gone out again.

“why did you goad him on?”

You frown. “I don’t know. I got angry. He insulted me _and_ you. I defended myself. Defended _us._ ”

He growls at you and punches the steering wheel for emphasis.

“by fucking _asking_ for trouble? are you stupid? he could have hurt you! could have _killed_ you. he wouldn’t even care.”

Your temper seethes and you lean towards him, pointing.

“I’m NOT going to apologize for defending you or myself! ESPECIALLY from the likes of him. I’d _gladly_ do it a THOUSAND times over for you and Papyrus! So don’t call me stupid.”

His eyes widen as he frowns at you. Still angry, but less so. He’s _almost_ proud of you for standing your ground. His eye-lights are back, though they’re dim.

Your icy glare thaws somewhat at that.

“But I will apologize for bringing you into it and making you use your powers. I didn’t _ever_ want to put you in danger. It was thoughtless and reckless, and _that_ was very stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes as a pained expression settles in the bones of his face. He turns his head back to the front, hands loosening a bit on the steering wheel.

You sit back and fold your arms across your body as best you can, looking out the window dejectedly. You really screwed up. You meant what you said, but it was still stupid what you did. You only hope Sans can forgive you. You’re not really sure _you_ forgive yourself yet.

He pulls in front of your house and you get out of the car and head to your door. Sans surprises you by following. You unlock it and turn around to Sans.

“You can come inside if you want to. I’d understand if you don’t though.”

Sans is still frowning, but other than that, he’s unreadable. He quickly says, “i want to.”

You meet his eyes for a second and then head inside. He closes the door behind him. You throw your purse on the ground and go to face Sans again.

“Sans, I’m -”

But you’re cut off as Sans grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. You wrap your arm around his chest and squeeze tight. God, you hate fighting with Sans. You need him to know how you feel. Your fingers press into his ribs through his clothes. You bury your head into the fluff of his hood.

You breathe out, “I’m so sorry Sans.”

His arms crush you to him even more at that. He tilts his head and leans it against yours, face brushing your hair.

“it’s ok. you had every right to be angry.”

You groan a soft complaint. He’s silent for a moment.

“i was furious too. but i was also scared. i know what men like him can do. if he wanted to, he would've killed you…. but not before making you sorry.” His voice drops low, heavy with emotion, petering out.

You shudder at his implication. You know how to fight, but you can only do so much with a broken arm. You know in your soul Sans is right.

He feels you shake and his hands rub your back slowly.

“i didn’t want that to happen to you. i don’t want to see you get hurt. i don’t want to see you hurt ever again if i can help it.”

Tears well up in your eyes and fall silently down your cheeks. You close your eyes hard to try and stop the flow, pushing your face further into his hoodie. Your fingers grip the fabric.

Sans feels you try and choke back your tears. Knowing you’re crying sends a stab of sadness through his soul. Then he hears you speak in a hushed tone that vibrates softly off his bones.

Your voice cracks, “I was scared too.”

His arms enfold you more. He closes his eyes.

“Not really for myself. I just didn’t want him to hurt you.”

His eyes open back up rapidly. His fingers clench. He shakes his head.

“don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it. You…you and Papyrus mean so much to me already. I’d do anything for you guys. Anything to keep you safe from people like him…. Just like you kept me safe.”

“___.”

He burrows his head against you, breathing in the scent of you and your hair, water and coffee and wood-smoke. He exhales, breath hot. As he moves, his teeth accidentally graze your neck lightly and you can’t help but shiver at the feeling.

Sans didn’t miss that.

He pauses for the smallest second and pulls back from you, a kind smile on his face and concern in his eyes. You look up at him with tear-stained cheeks, eyes red. You’re still holding onto him. You tilt your head to rub your eyes on your shoulder. But he lifts his hand and uses his thumb to gently wipe the tears from your face instead.

You exhale a little shakily, “Still best friends?”

He laughs, eyes softening, “yeah. on two conditions.”

His hand grips your chin, gingerly forcing you to lock eyes with him. They flash.

“you don’t go looking for trouble.”

You furrow your brow in determination. You nod quickly against his hand.

He tilts his head and his face finally releases the tension it’s been holding for the past hour.

“and no more crying.”

You laugh weakly. “I dunno if I can promise that. I’m kind of a weenie about some things.”

He chuckles and pulls you in for another hug, “yeah but you’re _my_ weenie.”

You laugh into his jacket, hugging him tightly. “I guess I am.”

He hums a sigh.

“but geez, do ya gotta mouth on you or what.”

You laugh openly into his chest.

“Yeah, sorry. You’ll just have to deal sometimes. It can be harsh.”

“ya really shouldn’t have said anything. but fuck if it wasn’t funny lookin’ back.”

You pull back and stick your tongue out at him.

“Sharpest tongue in the West.”

He squeezes you, eyes full of mirth.

“watch out, it’ll get ya into a lick of trouble.”

You giggle but look at him out of the corner of your eyes.

“You can be pretty scary yourself, when you want to be.”

His face goes slack and his eye-lights shrink. Guilt and shame sit heavily on his soul. He never wanted to scare you. He wants to looks away. But he can’t. Instead he turns your face to him fully. You deserve a straightforward apology. You apologized to him with courage and conviction. It’s the least he can do to return it.

“i’m sorry.”

You smile softly and raise your hand to place it on his cheekbone. His eyes are so full of remorse. You don’t like him looking that way.

“Hey, it’s ok. You were angry and I know you didn’t mean to frighten me. I mean, looking back too it’s pretty badass. But I can take it, I’m stronger than I look.”

You stroke the bones of his face and he sighs. You wink and drop your hand, giving him a genuine smile.

“ya did stand your ground though. pretty proud of you for that. my weenie’s also a little spitfire.”

“Damn straight.”

He chuckles and throws his arm around your neck, shoving his other hand in his pocket.

Laughing, you push off Sans and bend down to grab the pain pills out of your purse. You move to your kitchen and grab a glass of water, hastily swallowing the pills. You go back into your living room and head to your couch. You throw yourself across it, laying down on your back heavily. Now that the adrenaline is out of your system, you feel like you could sleep for years.

Sans watches you and crosses the room to sit where your head is. He takes his hands and lifts up your head smoothly, plopping down and setting your head back down onto the pillow he’s placed in his lap.

He looks down at you and you look up at him. He rests his hand softly on your right arm.

“is your arm ok? bastard hit you pretty hard.”

You frown and turn your head away sharply. “For the most part. It does hurt though. It’s why I took some pills.”

Anger pierces Sans’ soul like an arrow. His magic courses through his bones, urged on by his emotions. He wishes he could have taken care of the fucker. But it doesn’t work that way up here. He sighs and moves his hand to your face, placing it lightly on your cheek.

You calm down and close your eyes, the resentment dissipating from your features as Sans strokes your cheek with his thumb. His hand is so warm. It feels good against your throbbing head.

He slowly moves his fingers up, trailing them along your temple and to your scalp. They start threading through your hair, gently combing it out across the pillow. Your hair is even softer after you’ve washed it. He revels in the feeling. It’s like silk against the rough bones of his hands.

He starts massaging your head in the same way you did for him. He’s careful to avoid disturbing your stitches. But his fingers curiously drift to the healing gash on your head. The skin around it is a sickly brown and green. He figures that’s how bruises look after several days. His first finger traces the length of your injury, lightly brushing the skin around it. It extends from the very top of your forehead, back to the crown of your skull. He grimaces. You were so lucky it wasn’t worse.

But the thought spurs him on. He wants to make you feel just as good as you made him feel. Especially after everything that happened today.

You feel him probing. “It’s bad, huh.”

He strokes your temple. “coulda been worse.”

You’re quiet for a moment. But then he sees you smile softly.

“At least I’ll get a pretty rad scar out of it.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “i’m sure undyne’d get a kick out of it. literally.”

You look up at him. “Undyne. That one of your friends? I’d like to meet them sometime.”

He smiles down at you. “yeah. that’d be great.”

He starts up his ministrations again. He sees you move your left hand under your head, curling it up under your jaw. You give a content smile and whisper, “Head-rubs,” victoriously.

He laughs, it reverberating deep in his chest. He continues to move his hand around your head, rubbing his fingers as he goes. They stray around to the back of your head, behind your ear. He brushes the hairline along your neck and he feels you shiver again. Not stopping his movements, he glides back over the spot, watching your reaction.

Oh _wow_ , you hum.

A corner of your mouth lifts up in a smile and you sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. He chuckles quietly to himself and thinks of an idea. He decides to tease you. His fingers drift and rub everywhere but that spot. Your face unwinds again, almost waiting for him to go back. After a few minutes, he digs his bony fingers into your scalp and drags them across that spot.

You inhale and bite your lip.

Sans’ eyes widen and focus on your mouth. He’s a bit mesmerized. Deep down, he relishes the fact that he can make you feel and react in such a way. His face breaks into a wicked grin, filing that one away for later. He grabs your remote quickly in the meantime, turning on the TV to a random channel before he resumes his work.

He keeps rubbing your head for another hour as you doze on and off. The pills help with your exhaustion, but the remaining pain keeps you from going into a deep sleep, no matter how wonderful Sans is doing. After a while, Sans moves his hand to rest by your head, fingers curled against your neck, while his thumb idly rubs your jaw.

Sans is barely watching the TV when he feels a buzz from his pocket. Shit. It must be Papyrus. He fishes the phone out of his pocket. He looks at the time. It’s almost 11pm. He looks over at you. You’re so relaxed when you sleep.

What a perfect opportunity.

The wicked grin is back on his face and he snaps a candid shot of you, mouth open, slightly snoring. He chuckles softly to himself before calling Papyrus, whispering into the phone so he doesn’t wake you.

“HELLO? Sans?”

“hey bro, it’s me.”

“WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?”

“kid is sleepin’.”

“Ah, so you are still at their place then?”

“yeah.”

“Did you both have a good time today?”

“yeah, took ‘em to Grillby’s. walked around. ran into some trouble later on, but we’re both ok.” He was loathe to tell Papyrus, but figured he should know.

“TROUBLE?! Are you quite sure you are ok?!”

Sans laughs quietly. “yeah bro, i’m sure. nothin’ me and ___ can’t handle. you and undyne’d be proud of ‘em. they’re a spitfire.”

“NYEH HEH! Well, as long as you both are ok. Are you coming home?”

Sans looks over at you fondly. His thumb rubs your jaw again. Part of him wants to stay. A part that’s growing bigger and more demanding. But. He can’t. Not yet.

“yeah. lemme just get them taken care of for the night and i’ll head home.”

“OHO NYEH, _yes_ brother. TAKE. GOOD. CARE. OF. THEM.”

He rolls his eyes. “ugh, bye paps.”

He hears a responding NYEH as he ends the call. He leans over you a little bit to put the phone back in his pocket. His eyes pass over you.

And are met by two bright eyes staring at him.

He stares back, caught.

“hi.”

“Hi.”

You break the contest and yawn.

“That was amazing. Thank you. For not getting a head-rub before yesterday, you’re pretty good at giving them.”

He laughs and gives you a smug grin. “well i am pretty great.”

You snicker. “Am I talking to Papyrus right now? Wow, you got a wardrobe change. Where's your scarf?" You reach towards him and flip his hood over his head, obscuring his eyes. Sans laughs and his grin widens from beneath the hood.

"guess i gotta little short on scarves."

You fall back, laughing.

“Speaking of Papyrus, was that him on the phone?”

He pushes his hood back. “yeah, just wonderin’ where i was.”

You jump slightly, moving up to grab your phone out of your pocket to look at the time.

“Shit, it’s late. Did I keep you? I’m sorry, you totally could have left if you needed to go.”

“nah, wanted to make sure you were ok. it was nice just hangin’ out.”

You rub your neck and twist your back to stretch. Your spine cracks in several places. You look over to Sans.

“Well, thanks. It was nice ha-…. Sans?”

You start to worry a little as you notice him sweating, a blue glow dusting his face, staring at your back.

You push his shoulder, shaking him out of it.

“Hey Sans, dude you ok?”

He tears his gaze from your spine and locks eyes with you.

“yeah. heh, guess i just forget you have bones under all that sometimes.” He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, turning away from you.

You laugh and give him a weird look and pat your body.

“Yep. All 206 or somethin’.”

You get up and extend a hand to Sans. He takes it and you pull him up from the couch.

He shoots you a roguish look.

“don’t need me to carry you upstairs tonight, i guess?”

You laugh loudly. “I would only say yes just to see proof that you could. But no, you don’t need to.”

His eye-lights brighten with a mischievous glint. He steps toward you like a predator. You raise an eyebrow and instinctively step backwards. His eyes flicker at that. Oh no.

Quicker than you can truly realize, Sans is literally sweeping you off your feet; one arm under your legs, the other behind your back. Your left arm is thrown around his shoulders, gripping onto the vertebrae of his neck.

“OOF- Sans! Ohmygod, ok. This is happening. You can uh… _totally_ put me down.”

He gazes down at you, eyes luminous.

“ok.”

You wait. He does nothing.

You laugh weakly, trying to shift out of his arms.

“Ok Sans, good job, you’ve shown you can pick me up, but _this_ is the real challenge. Are you able to put me down?”

You wiggle a little harder and wait for him to take the bait. His hands grip your sides, forcing you to calm.

“not a chance. i haven’t sufficiently cleared my name yet.”

He starts walking slowly up your stairs and once at the top he saunters over to your bed. You look up at him again and pat his shoulder.

“Fantastic job. A+. You are amazing, the best at carrying me for sure. Now. Can you put me down? Please?”

“aw ya don’t like it? i’d love to be carried everywhere.”

You throw your head back and groan, now a dead weight in Sans’ arms. He can’t help glancing over your now-exposed throat.

“While I _do_ have the propensity to be as lazy as you, and I _do_ enjoy being carried as much as the next person, I am certainly not accustomed to it.”

He angles his head down towards yours, winking. “well maybe ya just need to be carried more often.”

You bust out laughing and put your hand over his face. “NOT likely.”

He laughs, deep and boisterous, and you feel it resonate in his chest. You can’t help but smile and laugh with him. You share an ecstatic look as he bends down partly, gently tossing you into your bed and pillows. You give a small cry and laugh.

“Geez, thanks.”

“no problem, lefty. told ya i wasn’t a liar.”

You close your eyes in pseudo-solemnity. “I take back my previous accusation. I hope you can forgive my past transgressions.”

He pretends to think. “i think i can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

You grab his hand suddenly and pull him down to you, one of his knees landing on the bed. You wrap your arm around his neck and grip his vertebrae roughly. He groans at the sensation.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry again. Despite everything, I had a really great time today.”

He wraps his arms around you too, one hand on your back, the other laying gently on the back of your head. He presses his face into your hair again. He murmurs into your ear.

“me too. just remember what i said. there are people who care about you.” 

You pull back slightly and, gathering your courage, place a small kiss on his cheekbone. He stiffens, astonished.

“You remember what I said too, because I meant every word. I care about you guys a lot. Much more than you probably realize.”

Coming back to reality, Sans moves his head in front of you and places his forehead against yours. He looks into your eyes with a heated gaze. You return it, pouring the affection you feel into it. His soul pulses. He thinks he sees yours as well. After a short moment, he lets go and straightens up.

“sleep well.”

You wave as he turns to walk down the stairs, calling out to him.

“You too! Tell Papyrus hey for me. And text me if you need anything!”

“will do.”

He opens the door and locks it as he leaves.

 --------------- 

When Sans gets home, all the lights in the house are off. Papyrus must already be asleep. He heads into his room and takes off his hoodie, shirt, and shoes. He’s thankful he wore those today.

He falls back on the bed, bare-boned and bare-chested, arms spread eagle. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t run like that in probably…well, forever. Does dodging count? A look of disdain flashes across his features. He’s done a lot of that unfortunately. It’s obvious you exercise though, you almost left him in the dust.

He rolls over and plugs his phone in the charger, placing it next to his pillow. He folds his hands across his sternum as his eyes drift closed.

Colors shift. Popping in and out of nothing.

A buzz enters his mind. It grows louder and louder until it’s deafening. It morphs into maniacal laughter.

He opens his eyes.

Sans is briefly aware that this is new, but only in the vague way dreams allow.

Dread spreads through his bones like a poison as he realizes the difference.

You’re there.

The man from today is standing over you with a knife in his hand. Face hidden but for the demented smile glinting. He drops fast and slams his knee down into your abdomen hard to keep you from moving. You gasp out in pain, trying to push him off.

Sans tries to run to you, but he can’t move. He yells out in frustration and fear.

The man reaches forward and grabs your neck in a vice. You’re angry, desperate to buck him off, scrabbling at his hand. Trying to breathe. But you can’t. Youcan’tbreathe…youcan'tbr....  

When he pulls out the knife and brings it in front of your eyes, you freeze. Your eyes widen; horror, great and terrible, twisting your features.

The man’s lip curls in a sneer, “You’ve got such a pretty face. Would be a shame if something were to happen to it.”

Panic.

You attempt to move your head as far away from the knife as possible, but it’s in vain. His hand tightens on your neck and jaw. You cough.

He spits out in a vicious tone, “You like monsters so much, I’ll help ya out. I’ll make you fucking _look like one_.”

He leans down and presses the blade against your cheek. Then he cruelly digs it in, dragging it down slowly, cutting into your face, blood streaming, staining your hair crimson. You try to scream.

Sans’ magic explodes and he’s screaming for you.

He shoots up in his bed. His left eye is blazing, flames licking the air and his skull. His bones are rattling and covered in sweat. Sans chokes out a tearless sob as he gasps for breath. His soul is pulsing. He covers his face in his hands, trying to breathe evenly.

He closes his eyes hard, willing his power to come back down. Finally, it disappears, eye-lights appearing dimly in his sockets. His hands fall limply into his lap as he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. Fuck.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. You’re ok.

He breathes heavily, and looks over at his phone. He guesses now would be a good time to text you. Not like he’s going back to sleep anytime soon after that.

He lays back down, bringing his phone over to his face, typing out a text to you.

_\- hey_

He doesn’t really expect you to respond. Its either very late, or very early, depending on who you ask.

But not four minutes later, you do.

**_\- Can’t sleep?_ **

_\- nah_

**_\- Me either._ **

_\- how come_

**_\- Probably for the same reasons you can’t._ **

**_\- Knock knock._ **

_\- who’s there_

**_\- Nana_ **

_\- nana who_

**_\- Nana your business._ **

He chuckles. You send him another text.

**_\- What’s a skeleton’s favorite instrument?_ **

**_\- A trombone_ **

_\- why are skeletons so calm_

_\- nothing gets under their skin_

**_\- Ha! Good one. Let’s see…._ **

Sans laughs, calmed down a bit after the nightmare. It’s mostly gone from his thoughts, but he can’t help wanting to see you again, to make sure you’re actually ok. He tries to avoid thinking about how much of a reality it could become.

You and Sans text each other early into the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is up! This was fun to write; got to exercise my dark angst and fluff muscles.
> 
> That being said, Sans needs a fuckin' break. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Please lemme know what you think (if you want, or not, it's whatever yo). Thank you as always for your comments and kudos! <3
> 
> Follow or ask me stuff on my tumbla! : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/  
> OR, maybe even request stuff, that may be funnnnnn........BYE


	8. Reveal

You throw your phone across the bed and laugh face-first into your pillow. After several minutes, you lift up your head to catch your breath. You reach for your phone and a conversation loaded with jokes. You type back to Sans.

**_\- You are a bone-afide comedian my friend._ **

_\- i know. i think its my calling. i can feel it in my bones._

**_\- Stop stop, you’re making my stomach hurt from laughter._ **

_\- but i like to see ya squirm_

**_\- But my stomach muscles doooon’t. I’m a sore loser…._ **

_\- pfft, and u say u dont wanna hear any more jokes_

**_\- It’s true. Aren’t you tired?_ **

_\- eh. im always tired. plus i have work soon anyway_

You look at the clock. It’s almost 7am. Geez you stayed up all night pretty much. But it was worth it. You enjoy talking to Sans. Besides, there wasn’t any way you were really going back to sleep after the dreams you had. It wasn't that they were really scary; just very disturbing. You couldn’t really remember what happened, but you knew you would pick up right where you left off if you did fall asleep. That’s a big nope.

**_\- Where do you work?_ **

_\- nice cream and hot dog stand in the park downtown_

**_\- Sweet ;) Do you work all day today?_ **

_\- pretty much_

**_\- Lame._ **

_\- what’re u doin today_

**_\- Nap, study. Think I might look at replacing my truck today too._ **

_\- u gonna have to pay for all of it?_

**_\- No thankfully. The insurance company will cover most of it._ **

_\- that’s good. lemme know if you need help tho_

**_\- No no no, I’m all good. I wouldn’t let you even if I needed it._ **

_\- yah u would_

**_\- Psh, who says?_ **

_\- me. u know you cant say no to this handsome mug_

**_\- That handsome mug needs to hush his face, I’m fine._ **

_\- ur not the boss of me_

**_\- Shh, just let it happen…._ **

You laugh and shift up, stretching your left arm way over your head, reaching toward the ceiling. Probably about time for you to get up and get ready for the day. You roll out of bed and head into your bathroom to take a shower. You wish you didn’t have to worry about your cast, but there’s no avoiding it. Only like three weeks left of that nonsense.

You enjoy the hot water while it lasts and then step out of the shower. You wrap your towel around yourself and walk out into your bedroom to get dressed. You shimmy into your jeans, clumsily buttoning them with your one hand. You pull on a t-shirt and pick up your phone and text Sans quickly.

**_\- Have a good day at work_ **

You put the phone in your pocket as you head downstairs to make coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of it since you barely slept last night.

As you’re waiting for the grounds to steep, you think you’ll watch a movie while you’re making breakfast. You go to your shelves and look over your selection. Hmm….

A title catches your eye. You hand shoots toward it in excitement. The Lion King. There is NO DAY where you don’t want to watch that movie. They don’t exist, it’s impossible.

You throw the movie in and press play. You head back into your kitchen and look around. What can you make with one arm? You really want a huge breakfast, but you doubt you can juggle all the pans with just one hand. You look sadly at your fruit bowl. Probably the easiest thing right now.

You hate your cast even more in this moment.

You finish making your coffee, fixing it just the way you like and grab an apple in the crook of your arm. You head to your couch and settle in to watch the movie. You set your coffee on the table and let the apple fall in your lap. You’re starving so you take a quick bite. It’s definitely not sausages and eggs, but it’ll do. You grab your coffee and take a sip.

And almost spit it back out.

“BLEGH! WHY DID I DO THAT, THIS HAPPENS EVERY TIME, WHY DON’T I LEARN!”

You grimace at the taste and resolve to drink your coffee first before eating the rest of the apple. You lean back and get sucked into the movie, mouthing along with the words that you’ve had memorized for years.

Yes, Scar, _work it_. He’s your favorite. He’s a goddamn sass machine and you love it. Sure, he uh…kills his brother and tries to kill his nephew…but he looks fabulous doing it. And that voice…. What’s not to love?

“Yes, well forgive me for not _leaping_ for joy. Bad back you know.”

You laugh and go back for more coffee. You come back into the living room and lay down on your couch, sipping your coffee and singing along with the music; the beat and drums hitting just the right chord in you.

You take a bite out of your apple as the phone on your chest buzzes. You pick it up and see that it’s a text from Sans.

_\- u 2_

You chuckle as an idea pops into your head. Maybe you’ll stop by the park after your errands with some lunch for Sans. You’ve never had nice cream before, so that’s something to look forward to.

Oh, and you _guess_ Sans as well. You smile.

Your mind lingers a little TOO long on that lazy smile and those kind eyes, going without your permission to when his teeth grazed your neck….

“STOP,” you yell out loud.

Nope, nope, nope, nope you repeat to yourself. You move to get busy with your day. It takes your mind off _things_ a little, but your blood and heart are still running hot.  

You turn off your TV and put away your mug in the sink. Going to your door, you open it slightly, just to see what the weather is like. Nice, it’s getting cold outside. You head upstairs to get the rest of your things. You go into your closet and grab your black bomber jacket. You slip it carefully over your cast and then adjust your sling on top of that. You make sure you have all of your insurance information as you walk back downstairs and pick up your purse. Slinging it across your body, you call a cab.

You set your jaw with a smile on your lips. Let’s get a truck.

 --------------- 

You finally get to the dealership. You thank the cab driver and pay the fare, stepping out of the car.

You steel yourself. You’ve always gotten the impression car salespeople were like sharks. Go in knowing exactly what you want, get out with exactly what you wanted.

Easy peasy. In theory.

As you walk up, you immediately catch the attention of a salesperson. A monster actually. It’s nice to see more of them around. They walk up to you with a friendly smile.

“Welcome, how can I help you today?”

You smile at them. “Hi. I’m here to replace my truck that got totaled. My insurance company is willing to pay most of the cost, and I’d pay the rest. I have the paperwork. That won’t be a problem right?”

They look concerned as they notice your cast. “Oh I hope you’re ok! No that shouldn’t be a problem. We will work with you and them to get everything squared away.” They give you a kind smile.

You sigh in relief. “Thank you.”

“What were you thinking as a replacement?”

“Another truck I think. My old one served me well and kept me pretty safe. Plus I’m just used to them.”

“Good thinking. I’ll show you to where the trucks are and you can look around. Come and get me when you’ve made a decision. No rush at all.”

You nod. “Thank you!”

They lead you to the trucks, quickly explaining the models and then leaving you to peruse.

You walk slowly up and down the row. You want a similar size and build, but aren’t sure about the color. It’s a bit exciting getting to choose your own vehicle, color and all, since your old truck was given to you. A fantastic idea pops into your head. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts and press call.

“HELLO?”

“Hey Papyrus! It’s ___.”

“OH HELLO HUMAN! How are you, friend? Is all well?”

“Yeah it’s great Papyrus, I’m actually picking out a replacement for my truck. I have a very important choice and I want you to help me make it.”

“WOWIE! Of course human, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, will do my best to aid you!”

“Awesome! If you were to pick a color for my new truck, what do you think would be best?”

“Wonderful question! Let us see…. RED. NO. BLUE. NO. YELLOW…. NO. Hmm…. You look to me like you would like GREEN. YES, A NICE DARK GREEN.”

You smile widely. You were leaning towards green.

“You have great taste Papyrus. I think you’re exactly right. Thanks for the help!”

“It was no trouble especially for one as GREAT as I, human!”

“Hey, I wanted to ask another question. Are you free sometime? We could make best friend spaghetti like you promised! I miss my cool skeleton pal.”

You’re sure you can hear his excitement skyrocket and it causes you to laugh loudly as he yells, “YES HUMAN WE MUST DO THAT TONIGHT!”

“Sounds great Papyrus! Need me to bring anything?”

“JUST YOURSELF HUMAN!”

“Awesome, I’m looking forward to it! What’s your address?”

He quickly tells you the address. “I’M SO ‘PUMPED’ AS UNDYNE PUTS IT! I WILL SEE YOU LATER AT OUR HOUSE!”

“Bye Papyrus!”

You hang up, bouncing happily on the balls of your feet. Thinking about tonight puts you in high spirits. You don’t know how making ‘best friend spaghetti’ goes, but you have a feeling It’s going to be a lot of fun.

You walk back over to the monster. They smile as you walk up.

“Have you found one you like?”

You grin and jerk your thumb over your shoulder to a dark green truck.

“I’ll take that one.”

 ----------------

Your relief grows even more once you climb into your new truck. You filled out all the necessary paperwork and you didn’t have to pay as much as you originally thought you might. WHICH IS SO GREAT. They'd also let you drive the truck off the lot after everything was taken care of.

You insert the key and start it up; the engine purring to life. You caress the steering wheel.

“You’re my new baby. You’ll get used to it.”

You smile and wave out the window to the monster who helped you. You glance at the clock.

Perfect. Almost lunchtime.

It’s a bit awkward switching gears with one hand. You have to reach across yourself to pull the gearshift. It’ll definitely take some getting used to.

You finally drive off and head to Grillby’s. You figure Sans would probably enjoy another burger. So would you, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

You arrive and park in the small lot. Stepping out, you instinctively glance around. You might just be a LITTLE nervous about seeing that man again. You hope he’s not lurking around. You walk with purpose to Grillby’s front door and pull it open. You step inside and your eyes adjust to the slightly darker atmosphere. You immediately relax as the nostalgia and familiar smell washes over you. There are less monsters in today, but you smile and give small waves to the ones you recognize from yesterday. Namely a bunch of dog monsters who wag their tails aggressively as you pass by and smile at them.

Grillby is at the bar polishing glasses again. He looks up and brightens as you walk towards him. You give him a big smile.

“Hey Grillby! How’s it going?”

His soft voice puts you at ease. “Hello ___. I’m doing well. How about you?”

“I’m doing pretty good. I’m here to pick up a couple of burgers, if that’s ok? I’m already addicted. Oh and an extra bottle of ketchup, please.”

He crackles in recognition. “Of course. I’m glad you enjoy them so much. Let me get them started for you.” He walks into the backroom.

You hop onto a stool and stare off at the bottles behind the bar as you wait.

But something…furry?... brushes up against your left arm and you start a little as you look over.

You’re staring into the dark, friendly eyes of one of the dog monsters. He comes up to about your shoulder, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail wagging slowly.

You shake off your surprise and smile at him broadly. “Hey, I’m ___. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

The dog monster wags his tail even harder and barks.

“His name is Lesser Dog.”

Grillby walks up with two to-go boxes in a bag and places them on the bar. You glance at Grillby with a thankful expression. He gives you slight nod, shoulders moving in silent laughter. You can’t really speak…whatever Lesser Dog was speaking.

You turn back to your new and curious friend. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Lesser Dog. I have to get going, but the next time I come in, I’d like to meet you and the rest of your friends again.” You smile down at him.

He gives a small yip of what you can only guess is agreement and noses your hand, bumping his head against it. Now that’s a universal signal you recognize. You lift your hand and scratch the top of his head. His fur is so soft and warm. You move it behind his ear and scratch even harder for a few seconds. His tail is going crazy at this point.

You laugh and hop off your stool. You fish out money from your purse and slide it over the counter to Grillby.

“Thanks again Grillby. Have a good rest of your day!”

He nods, his flames blazing a little more.

“Thank you ___. Same for you as well.”

You turn to Lesser Dog and pause for a second. You could almost SWEAR he’s a little taller. But you’ll have to think about that more later.

“Bye Lesser Dog! I hope we can hang out again.”

He barks at you and you think he’s smiling.

You grab the bag with your left hand and give them both a tiny wave of your fingers from your right as you leave. You step outside into the chilly air and head back to your truck. Now to the park.

 -----------------

You find a space near the park you think Sans was talking about. You step out of your truck with the bag. As you walk into the park, you take a deep breath of the fresh air. You love the smell of the trees and water. It’s also beautiful outside today. Clear and cold. Your favorite kind of day.

You pass groups of people and monsters; jogging, lounging, and enjoying the day by the lake nestled within the park. You cross the bridge slowly, taking your time. The sun peeks through the foliage and bathes you in warmth. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, just enjoying the heat as the cold breeze passes by.

At that moment, from a food stand not forty yards away, a skeleton opens his eyes lazily.

Sans spots someone stopped in the middle of the pathway, head back, eyes closed.

It piques his interest slightly. Not many just stop and take the time to enjoy the weather, especially when it’s cold. He squints his eyes a little. There’s something familiar….

He draws in a quick breath and his smile can’t help but grow.

It’s you.

His chest tightens fractionally. He has to admit, you look pretty great and so at ease just standing there. The sun lights up your face, relaxing the muscles, a gentle smile on your lips. He blushes slightly and shakes his head. He wonders what you’re doing here.

The sun disappears and provokes you to open your eyes again and start walking. As you walk, you glance up ahead, squinting to see if you can make out Sans and his food stand.

There it is.

You chuckle to yourself as you take in the sight. He’s got his slippers propped up on the side of the counter and he’s leaning back, eyes closed, hands in pockets.

As you walk up, you see his smile widen. Damn, so much for the element of surprise. You’re sure he knows you’re there now.

“Hey lazybones.”

“hey there kid.” He opens his eyes slowly and winks at you.

You laugh. “The jig’s up. How’d you know it was me?”

“i saw ya chillin’ in the sun back there.”

“Well maybe _this_ will surprise you instead.” You grin back and place the boxes on the counter.

His eyes open up a little more in curiosity. “ya got me there.”

You throw up your fist in victory. “Aw yeah. Ta da! I brought you lunch. Grillby’s specifically. Hope you don’t mind. While it’s a beautiful day outside, it still sucks to work.”

He looks into your eyes and gives you a genuine smile as he takes his feet off the counter and leans forward.

“i don’t mind at all. thanks pal.”

You pull out the boxes, handing one to him and placing one in front of you. With a coy smile, you pull out the bottle of ketchup and dangle it in front of Sans.

“Thought I’d hang out for a little and _ketchup_. That sound alright?”

He laughs loudly and takes the bottle from your hand.

“i _must-_ ard say, i’d love it if ya did, lefty.”

He takes a long pull from the bottle as you jump up onto the counter and open your own to-go box. You dig into the burger eagerly. Mmmmm. Still freaking delicious.

You two eat the food at a relaxed pace, watching the few people walk by. A strong wind blows suddenly, kicking up the leaves and buffeting the passersby. One man loses his hat and he and his dog go running after it.

You watch, entertained. You swallow your last bite and ask Sans, “So how’s work been?”

He shrugs, smiling. “a breeze. not many people want nice cream when it’s cold.”

“I’ve never had one. Can I buy one?” You ask a little excitedly.

He chuckles and threads one of his bony fingers into your belt loop, giving it a small tug.

“nah, i can hook ya up.”

You laugh but give him a slightly serious face. “Let me pay for it!”

“shh, just let it happen.”

You open your mouth and stare at him as he laughs. He used your own words against you. This means war.

He hands you a nice cream and you take it a little begrudgingly.

“Thanks.”

He winks at you. “don’t mention it.”

You open the wrapper and take an experimental lick. You experience the taste, pursing your lips for just a second before your mouth splits into a huge smile.

“Good lord is all monster food this damn delicious? I love it!”

He laughs as he watches you lick the nice cream with enthusiasm. His eyes are focused on your tongue. He’s vaguely aware you said something, and he manages to tear his eyes away from your mouth to your eyes.

You raise your eyebrows, noticing his eyes shift up your face. You think you have an idea what that was all about. Most of you brushes it off, but a part of you slyly stores away that information should it need to be called upon again in the future.

You smile crookedly, eyebrow raised. “Whatcha starin’ at?” You take another slow lick of your nice cream.

His eyes flick down again, but he flashes you a nonchalant grin. “nothin’. just wonderin’ why ya don’t bite it.”

“I don’t like to bite into cold things. Makes my teeth hurt. They’re sensitive.”

He hums. He didn’t know your teeth could hurt. Interesting.

“huh. humans are weird.”

“Well duh. But that’s beside the point. Does it not hurt your teeth if you bite into it?”

You draw your brows together in thought and start kicking your legs casually. “On that same note, can you bite? Or even lick?” You flash him a curious smile. “That smile must be hiding some good secrets I bet.”

That gives him pause for a moment. You don’t know how right you are. But then he smiles devilishly at you.

“oh you have no idea.”

You squeal internally, reminded of the Lion King. Your mind wonders quickly if he’s ever seen it before. If not, that’s something that needs to be fixed _immediately_. You turn your attention back to the situation. First things, first. You begin to bounce up and down excitedly.

“You can?! Can you show me? I mean, if you want to? Was that rude? You don’t have to!”

He gives a deep laugh and reaches over for your nice cream, taking it from your hand. You bring up your leg and turn, completely facing him and watching closely.

“wanna see a magic trick kid?”

You slam your hand on the countertop and shout, “YES.”

He chuckles and you see his left eye ignite. You’ve never really stared very long at his eye when he does that, but as you examine it now, you find it very beautiful. Cyan and yellow flames dance together, blending and popping and swirling; making infinite hues, infinite possibilities. Which seems fitting.

You break your scrutiny of his eye and focus on his face. He parts his teeth.

Woah, they actually look pretty sharp. Canines flank either side.

Looking closer, you start to see a blue glow in the cavity of his mouth….

And out materializes an equally blue tongue, deliberately licking the side of the nice cream.

You gasp and yell, “WOAH!”

He barks a laugh and, eyes still locked onto yours, takes a bite out of the nice cream.

You laugh with him, astounded, and clap your hand against the countertop.

“Woo, bravo! Encore, encore!”

He chuckles and closes his mouth into his trademark smile. His left eye extinguishes.

“a magician never reveals all their tricks.”

You smile and give a big exhale, taking your nice cream back from him. “That was sick. Completely awesome. I had no idea.”

He snickers and leans onto the countertop, left arm laying across and the right holding up his skull.

“now you gotta show me some awesome things you can do.”

You give a sarcastic laugh and turn back out towards the lake. “You better hold onto your nonexistent hat, buddy. Cuz if you wanna see me eat my weight in chocolate, you’re in luck.”

“sounds pretty sweet to me.”

You giggle and rest your left elbow on top of Sans’ head. He laughs.

“It _is_ pretty sweet. You wish you could do that. But really. I’m just regular ole me. Nothin’ crazy or amazing.”

He peeks up at you. “doubt that.”

You give him a wry smile. “Well I guess you’ll just have to stick around and prove me wrong, huh?”

He nods, jostling you. “guess so.”

You finish your nice cream and glance down at the stick. It says: You look great today!

You smile and give a soft, "Aww."

Sans hums at you questioningly from underneath your arm.

"My nice cream was very nice. It said I look great today."

"well i've never known a nice cream to lie."

"Double aww."

You chuckle and rub your knuckles on the top of his skull in a soft noogie. He laughs deeply.

You both sit there for a little while in silence, enjoying the afternoon. The sun is starting to dip low in the sky, bathing the leaves and trees in shades of gold and burnt orange; the water reflecting dazzling yellows and reds, and the occasional blue. You give a small sigh and sidle off the counter. You turn around to Sans who hasn’t changed position.

“Well I gotta peace out. Got plans tonight.”

He raises his brow-bone and looks at you through half-lidded eyes. “oh yeah? what might those plans be?”

You place your first finger over your mouth. “It’s a secret.”

“i love secrets.”

“Nice try, I’m sure you do.” You flash him a mischievous smile. “You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

Before he has a chance to respond, you move close to him and place your hand on the back of his head, tilting it slightly forward so you can place a quick kiss to his forehead. He’s still as a statue, shocked into silence.

You pull back, fingertips sliding softly off his skull. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, eye-lights bright, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth up.

You laugh at his goofy face and wave to him as you walk away.

“See you later!”

Still staring at you, he lifts his hand and waves back, dazed.

“see ya…___.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again, my BBs! This is a little bit of an interim chapter, but we needed to unwind from the craziness of earlier. I hope you enjoy it. Things will start heatin' up soon maybe probably we'll see........... WINK WONK
> 
> ALSO, omfg THANK YOU for 200+ kudos, and so many hits and comments. I still can't believe it really, but I love each and every one of you. Stay swell <3333
> 
> \o/ TUMBL : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/  
> Follow, ask, request, it don't matter, just come and have fun!


	9. Unveil

Your thoughts and feelings bombard you as you walk back to your truck. You don’t really know what made you do what you did, other than it felt right and it felt nice to do it, damnit. So you won’t think too hard about it. He doesn’t seem to have that much of a problem with it, and you think he would let you know if he did. But deep down, it thrills you a little that he may not mind.

You approach your truck and hop inside. Papyrus had texted you a little earlier saying you could come over whenever. You text him back that you’re on your way now.

You drive out of the park and head to his and Sans’ house. As you get closer, you realize it’s not that far from your place. Only around fifteen minutes. You start driving slower to get a good look at the house numbers. Aha, there it is.

You assume Sans has the car because it’s not in the driveway. You shut your truck off and step out. As you walk to the front door, you take in the house. It’s decently sized and looks extremely quaint. You’re immediately in love with it.

You ascend the steps and you think you hear muffled crashes from within. A little alarmed you raise your left hand to knock, but the door is thrown open before you even get the chance. Two bony arms shoot out of the doorway and wrap you up in the biggest hug you’ve ever gotten.

Papyrus picks you up and spins you around. You laugh and hug him back fiercely.

“Papyrus!”

“HUMAN!”

You love this skeleton to death.

He sets you down with a wide grin on his face. You smile back.

“I’m so happy to be here.”

“I am happy you are here as well, friend! Please come in!”

He ushers you inside and you slowly walk in, absorbing it all. It’s very roomy and bright. Lots of space to maneuver, which you figure is pretty great for Papyrus. You immediately feel welcome and warm too. It’s pristine in its cleanliness, but it exudes a sense of compassion. Like everything is well taken care of. Even though it’s sparsely decorated, the things that are set out are meant to be there and are obviously cherished.

Papyrus strides ahead of you, spreading his arms out.

“Welcome to our home, human! I hope you will make yourself comfortable! To your right is Sans’ room and mine is in the back. I can show you all of my things later if you would like!”

He helps you take your jacket off, working carefully around your cast and sling. He hangs it up next to a table with a tank on it. Is there only a rock inside…? You don’t have time to look more, because after Papyrus has hung up your jacket, he takes your hand and leads you into the room on the left.

“This is our living room!”

They have a TV that’s placed in front of the large bay windows on the front of the house. Facing that is a large couch. It looks so comfy you think. You’ll have to give it a test run. Scattered around the room are various picture frames with the skeleton brothers and what you assume are their friends. They look happy. It fills your heart up and you smile fondly at them.

Papyrus then leads you into the kitchen directly behind the living room.

He strikes a magnificent pose, clearly proud of this room the most.

“And this is our kitchen! Where we will make SPAGHETTI!”

“I love it Papyrus! Your house is wonderful.”

“Thank you, human!”

You stroll around the kitchen and place your left hand on your hip. You smile broadly at him.

“You ready to make best friend spaghetti, Papyrus?”

He whoops, “YES!”

He runs around the kitchen to gather all the ingredients he has for the occasion. You spot vegetables, tomatoes, and pasta. He places a large pot with water on the stove, turning the temperature to high.

He finally turns to you, scarf fluttering. “I have all the ingredients ready! My spaghetti has improved, if that is even possible, so brace yourself for an AMAZING EXPERIENCE!”

“I’m braced! Where do we start?”

“You boil the noodles at HIGH HEAT. The higher heat the better as Undyne says! I will tenderize the vegetables and tomatoes!”

You laugh as you begin to stir the pasta into the now boiling water. “How’re you gonna tenderize them?”

He grins and throws his hands in the air.

“With my FISTS of course!”

He proceeds to start punching the ingredients. You squeal in delight as bits start flying.

 -----------------

Sans drives home after he gets off work. Pulling up to their house, he’s surprised to find a green truck in the driveway. His brow creases as he wonders who it might be. He pulls in next to it and gets out of the car, ambling toward the front door. As he opens the door, he hears raucous laughter from two voices. Both extremely familiar.

Of course.

He closes his eyes briefly and smiles widely, your and Papyrus’ laughter infecting him. He steps inside and shuts the door quietly. He walks to the living room and catches sight of the both of you. You’re stirring the pot frantically and Papyrus is throwing the tomatoes and vegetables into it. One tomato makes a bit of a backsplash, splattering the front of your shirt. You look up into Papyrus’ face, a little shocked, but then you laugh uproariously. Papyrus follows suits with a loud NYEH HEH HEH.

Papyrus turns his head, noticing his brother in the doorway.

“Sans! Welcome home!”

You whirl around, smiling. You face Sans and throw up your arm.

“Surprise! We made spaghetti!”

Papyrus strikes another pose and you try to emulate it. Sans bursts into laughter looking at the two of you. You and Papyrus join him and start getting out plates for dinner.

Papyrus shoos you to go sit down at the kitchen table. Sans joins you, sitting on your left. He watches you in amusement as you reach out to the center of the table to grab a napkin and begin wiping the tomato from your shirt. Other than getting the big chunks off, the tomato stubbornly remains on your shirt.

You laugh softly and shrug, shooting Sans a quick glance. “Maybe it’ll wash out? It’s an old shirt anyway.”

He winks. “seems like it’s a wash. could lend ya a shirt if ya need it.”

You think for a moment, the idea appealing.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like that. I don’t wanna get tomato all over your place.”

His grin widens and he hoists himself up. He holds his hand out to you.

“c’mon. i’ll show ya my room and the bathroom while we’re at it.”

“Sweet, thank you,” you reply and take his hand. He leads you through the living room and into his bedroom across the hall.

He lets go of your hand as you walk in.

“welcome to my humble a-bone-de.”

You laugh and turn your head this way and that, observing where your best friend lives. Sans, in the meantime, heads to his dresser and roots around inside one of the drawers. His bedroom is pretty Spartan, except for a bookcase with some books and pictures on it and a treadmill tucked into a corner. It’s a little messy, but nothing that really surprises you. Your place looks way worse sometimes.

“I like it.”

He looks up at you briefly from the dresser and shrugs. But his eyes and tone show his appreciation.

“it’s home.”

A smile creases your eyes as you respond, “Exactly.”

Sans turns back to the drawer and laughs shortly as he pulls out a black t-shirt. This’ll do. He hands it to you. You take it and unfold it. You quickly burst into giggles as you take in the skeleton design on the front; ribs, spine and all. Sans looks pleased at your reaction.

He tilts his head in the direction of the bathroom to the left of his bed.

“you can use my bathroom to change.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“take your time.”

You shut the door and hear his footsteps leave the room. You glance around. Pretty standard. Very Sans. You remove your sling and then your shirt, carefully folding it in on itself to prevent the stains from getting on anything. You pull Sans’ shirt over your head, adjusting your sling back on once it’s settled. Your left hand runs down the front, smoothing the fabric. It’s a little big in some places, but it actually fits pretty well.

And it’s really very comfortable. You bring the lip of the shirt up and press it to your face, eyes closing. Soft, well worn. And the smell. You breathe deep. It washes over you, soothing you. It smells like…books, pine, tomatoes, some kind of cologne, and something else…it’s hard to describe. But it’s crisp. Like snow in the woods.

It just smells like _Sans_.

It makes you smile instantly and you feel so full, from deep down inside you. It threatens to drown you and you sigh, long and low.

You open your eyes and shake your head, a little dazed from the amount of feelings that arose. Grabbing your old shirt, you open the door and step out into Sans’ room. You cross it and close his bedroom door behind you. You walk over to your hanging jacket and the table beside it, placing it gingerly next to the tank so you won’t forget it later.

You head to the kitchen and see Papyrus and Sans chatting at the table. They turn their heads as you come in and you gesture to your body.

“Like it? I almost look like you guys now.” You waggle your eyebrows.

Sans would never admit it to you (now at least), but he _immensely_ likes seeing you in his shirt. Instead he laughs, saying, “a bone-afide skeleton for sure.”

Papyrus groans but gives you a smile. “Sans’ silly shirt looks great on you, human!”

You dip low into a bow. “Thank you thank you. You’re too kind. It’s actually pretty darn comfy.”

You move to sit at the table with the brothers, and you all begin to eat the spaghetti Papyrus set out. It’s a little bland, but all-in-all, pretty good. Hell, it was just fun to make.

“This is great Papyrus! Thanks for letting me help make it.”

“No, thank you human! It was a pleasure. And I’m sure it was wonderful for you to see my SPAGHETTI-MAKING PROCESS!”

“Definitely! You were truly amazing.”

He puffs out his chest in pride with a loud NYEH.

Sans watches you both interact, very happy you get along with his brother so well. His soul pulses again, his magic and emotions ebbing and flowing. He sits back and closes his eyes, just enjoying your company, Papyrus, and this feeling of contentment.

Papyrus gets up to take the dishes to the sink, and you get up as well, taking your plate. You pass it off to Papyrus who begins washing them.

“Need help?”

“No worries, human! I shall take care of everything. Perhaps make sure Sans does not fall asleep at the table.” He gives you a wry expression as his eyes shift to his brother.

You turn and chuckle at the small skeleton sitting at the table with his eyes closed. He opens them as you walk over and you look down into them.

“Papyrus has enlisted me to make sure you don’t nap at the table.” You grab his hand and tug him up and out of the chair. You lean in close and whisper conspiratorially, “So let’s go to the couch, where it’s more comfortable, and you can nap there instead.”

He chuckles and squeezes your hand as he follows you into the living room. You sit down against the arm of the couch and Sans plops down next to you, slouching down low and closing his eyes again. You’re almost touching, but not quite.

Except for your hands. Which he hasn’t let go of yet. And neither have you.

You let your grip slacken, but his tightens as he lifts your joined hands. He slips them into the pocket of his hoodie, never even opening his eyes. His smile widens though.

“ya said you’d lend me a hand sometime.”

You laugh and squeeze his hand back. “I guess I did. Glad to see you’ve kept me at my word.”

He chuckles. “s’what i’m here for. gotta keep ya on the straight and narrow.”

You laugh and pause for a second, then you start wheezing. “Or rather, the straight and _marrow_.”

Sans starts coughing as he laughs, bringing up his hood over his head and closing the front with the drawstrings. His body is shaking from laughter and he’s squeezing your hand tightly.

It all only makes you wheeze harder.

Papyrus makes his way in and sits on the other side of Sans, turning on the TV as he goes. He gives you both a weird look, but when he catches glimpse of your captive arm he gives you a big grin and a brow-bone waggle. He audibly says, “WINK.”

You finish laughing and roll your eyes at him and turn your attention to the Mettaton show Papyrus put on. Calmed down, you three sit together in companionable, relative silence. As you’re watching and giggling at the ridiculousness of the show at points, Sans’ thumb starts rubbing the back of your hand.

It feels really…really nice. The feelings you experienced earlier rise unbidden. Your fingers tighten and you let out a small sigh as the smooth bone glides over your skin, back and forth. You feel Sans relax even more too.

After a while, Papyrus stretches his arms above his head and yawns. Sans pushes his hood back and opens his eyes as you look over.

“ready for bed, bro?”

“I think so, brother.” Papyrus brightens and turns to you quickly. “Human! Would you like to join us?”

You look to Sans for permission. The last thing you want to do is intrude. His eyes are inviting, accompanied by a friendly smile.

“I’d love to.”

Sans takes your hands out of his pocket and gets up, pulling you up with him and you both follow Papyrus out to his room.

He still hasn’t let go. You’re more than ok with that.

Papyrus stops abruptly and turns around to Sans with an excited look. Like he has the best idea.

“SANS! Would you mind if our friend reads tonight? Or makes up a story to tell?”

Sans chuckles, shrugging. “sure bro. let’s see if they want to.”

Both brothers turn to you, waiting for your answer. You stop, a little surprised and embarrassed.

“Are you sure? If you really want me to, I can.”

They both nod. Papyrus more vigorously than Sans, but Sans gives you an encouraging squeeze on your hand.

You smile at them, a small feeling of excitement running through you.

“Well, I’m not great at making up stories, but I could do something different for you if you like. I can sing you something. I was sung to sleep when I was little.”

Both skeleton brother’s eyes widen, and Papyrus claps his hands.

“I’ve never been sung to! That sounds wonderful human!”

He races to his bathroom to change and once out, he sprints to his racecar bed, which is pretty rad in your opinion. You finally let go of Sans’ hand and walk over. Sans grabs two chairs, setting them next to the bed.

You sit down, getting comfortable and clearing your throat. You’re far from a good singer, but you’re decent and you like to do it. Sans sits in the other chair, eye-lights flashing, curious, completely focused on you. Papyrus waits excitedly.

“Ok, you guys ready? It’s a lullaby for a mother seal singing to her pup. I hope you like it. I’m also not the best singer, so here goes nothin’.”

You straighten and begin humming. You open your mouth and your mezzo voice starts singly gently at a slow, relaxing tempo:

“Oh, hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,

And black are the waters that sparkled so green.

The moon, o’er the combers, looks downward to find us,

At rest in the hollows that rustle between.”

Your voice rises and falls, emulating the images in the words. Your eyes are closed. Papyrus and Sans share a surprised glance, smiling faintly at each other. Papyrus’ eyes eventually close as he relaxes and listens. Sans continues to stare at you, mouth slightly slack.

He didn’t know you could sing. Your voice is slightly rugged and low. Earthy, in all the best ways Sans thinks. It wraps around his soul like a blanket. He sighs as you begin again.

“Where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow,

Oh weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease.

The storm shall not wake thee; nor shark overtake thee

Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas

Asleep in the arms…of the slow-swinging seas.”

The strength in your voice fades as you repeat the last line. You hum the last lyric, opening your eyes as you do. You smile fondly at Papyrus, who’s passed out. You finish, vibrato trailing off, and finally look over to Sans.

His expression both shocks you and electrifies you inside. The lights in his eyes are burning and his small smile is full of wonder. You turn away, a little shy from his scrutiny. You cough and give a weak chuckle.

“Hope that was ok. Seems like it worked though. Should probably let him be now.”

Sans watches you stand up and lean over Papyrus, hand brushing his skull as you place a small peck on the top of his head. Sans’ chest tightens and his soul vibrates.

You grab your chair and place it in the corner. Sans follows suit. As you walk out of the room, Sans turns off the lights and shuts the door quietly.

You move down the hall to your jacket. Sans follows. You turn to him.

“It’s late and I don’t wanna keep you up. You’re probably tired. I’ll head out so you can pass out too.”

“ok,” he says. What he doesn’t say is that he wants you to stay.

He smiles at you tenderly and you return it. He grabs your jacket and helps you into it. He moves close to you. He slips his hand along your neck and underneath your hair, bones brushing up against your skin. Your breath catches a little. He sweeps the locks out from the neck of the jacket. His arm moves down. His fingers latch the zipper and draw it slowly up. You watch him work, hands deft, eyes focused.

His eyes rise and meet yours.

“Thanks.”

“don’t mention it.”

You tentatively reach for his hand and he snatches it up, as if he was waiting for it.

“Wanna walk me out to my truck? Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you! I got a new truck.” You laugh, breaking the tension.

He chuckles. “sure.”

You both walk outside into the cold night air and make your way over to your truck. You tilt your head back and breathe out through your mouth, making small clouds of steam. Ever since you were little, you would pretend you were a dragon, and it never ceases to entertain you. Sans watches you out of the corner of his eye, enjoying your enthusiasm.

You let go of Sans’ hand a little reluctantly and lay it on the hood of your truck. You pat it and give a proud smile to Sans.

“This is my new baby. Papyrus helped me pick out the color. He said I look like I’d like green. Which I do. It’s my favorite. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by that though.”

He takes a couple steps over and leans against the cold metal.

“probably was talkin’ bout your soul.”

“My…soul?”

He turns his head to you and nods.

You muse aloud as you think through it. “He said it _looks_ like I’d like it…. So I assume that means he can see it. Am I right?”

Sans smiles and nods again. You instinctually raise your hand and grasp the front of your chest. You’re not sure why, but it’s drawn there.

You whisper, overwhelmed, “Wow…. I just thought souls were kind of an idea. Can you see it? Can all monsters? Can humans for that matter?”

He gives you another tender look. “souls are very real. i can see them too and so can every monster. humans can see them, but only monsters can draw them out.”

You look at him quizzically. “Draw them out?”

“yeah, materialize them outside of the physical vessel that holds them.”

You grasp your jacket tighter, brow furrowing as you look down. “Sounds like it could be dangerous to have them out in the open like that. Especially something so precious.”

“it can be. if you intended to fight. but it doesn’t have to be like that. it can be peaceful. a sign of trust and love.”

You’re soothed by that fact. You’re silent a moment before you look at him again. “Can I ask you a question?”

He tilts his head, nodding slightly, equal parts curious and a little apprehensive.

“Not right now, because I’m not really prepared, but maybe…maybe sometime you can show me what my soul looks like? Please?” You bite your lip.

You start rambling, hoping you didn’t overstep any boundaries, “I mean, if you want to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You grow quiet again until you murmur, “I trust you though.”

His face softens and he pushes off against the truck, moving close to you. He grabs your hand with one of his, prying it from your jacket. He clasps it, stroking it with his thumb again. He brings up his other hand and lays it on your cheek. His eyes stare hard at it, like he’s looking for something.

Or making sure.

You can’t exactly tell as your eyes scan his face, a little concerned. His thumb rubs up and down the length of it before bringing it back down to hold your hand. His eyes shift to yours, the storm in them calming.

“yeah. when you’re ready. and only then.” He gives you a compassionate smile.

Your face breaks into a delighted grin and you lunge toward him, throwing your arm around his neck. You hug him close. He wraps his arms around your body, breathing you in.

“Thank you.”

“no problem.”

He releases a tiny laugh that fluffs your hair. You giggle.

“so you lied to me.”

“What!” You yell and try to pull away, but he laughs and tightens his arms. They’re like steel.

“you said ya couldn’t do anything amazing. while i’m sure eatin’ your weight in chocolate is pretty incredible, it doesn’t hold a candle to your singing.”

You laugh and bury your head against his hood, your warm breaths tickling his neck, making his bones rattle softly.

“Nah, I just thought Papyrus might enjoy it.”

His voice drops suddenly. It sends shivers down your spine, in not entirely unpleasant ways.

“i’m serious. you may not think it, but it was beautiful.”

You hug him closer.

“papyrus loved it. i loved it. and we’d love it even more if you did it again sometime.”

Your hand grips the strong bones of his shoulder and you nod.

“I can do that.”

“good.”

He begins to pull away and you do the same in response, already missing the warmth of his hug.

But he does something then that lights a fire inside your chest. It spreads as it blazes, lighting up your nerves.

He presses his toothy grin against your cheek, in, what is unmistakably, a kiss.

His hands lay heavy on your shoulders and your hand is holding onto his jacket.

Your cheeks are hot as you blush and smile, laughing slightly.

He lingers for a long moment, and then finally pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face and lidded eyes gazing into yours. Despite the slight smugness, his expression is full of love.

You smile at him and rest your hand on his cheekbone, gently stroking the bone framing his eye. He leans into your touch.

“Good night.”

“night.”

He lets you go and you step away.

And immediately bump into your truck. You bounce off slightly and Sans busts out laughing, doubling over.

You quickly step around your truck, yelling, “I’M SMOOTH.”

Sans straightens up, still laughing. He waves at you as you slide into your truck and start it up, turning on the lights. You wave back at him, smiling too.

As you drive away, you make sure the truck is stable with the fingers of your right arm, so you can reach up and touch your cheek where Sans kissed it. You smile to yourself. A heat grows in your chest again and you think back to the feelings you had in his bathroom. You think you can now pinpoint where those came from. Your soul most likely. That, until now, unnamable and unknowable entity. As you think about it and Sans, you give a gasp.

Did…did _it_ just pulse?

That was...different; that was  _not_ your heart. It was deeper; connected in a way no physical thing could be. How could you possibly have missed that before? Or maybe you didn't; you just _know_ what it is now. Your hand grasps the front of your jacket again. 

“So you liked that, huh...? I think I did too.”

Your smile grows and you throw your head back and laugh from joy and adrenaline as you head home.

Sans watches you pull out and drive away. He stands for a little while in the cold, hands in pockets. He tilts his head back and looks at the faint stars. He sighs heavily, reveling in the heat that’s growing in his soul. He can’t really deny it now. And he doesn’t really want to. He sees it in your eyes. He feels it in your soul as well as his.

All he knows is he wants it. He wants to try. He wants you.

He turns and heads back inside, shutting and locking the door. Something catches his eye on the table. It’s your shirt. You forgot it. He chuckles and lifts it up. Despite the smell of tomatoes, he can pick out a scent that’s distinctly you. He’ll wash it for you.

He heads into his bedroom and places your shirt on top of his dresser. He gets ready for bed, slipping under the covers. He closes his eyes, thinking of your singing, and that alone lulls him to sleep.

That night, he dreams of you again.

But, this time, it’s infinitely better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! As a thank you for all the kudos and comments and everything! It means so much to me.
> 
> I had written chapter 8 & 9 together, pretty much with the intention of just 1 chapter in the beginning, but it got too long. I hope you like this one though. It made me so FUCKING excited to start future chapters, you have no idea. Or you probably do. 
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY BBs. 
> 
> And if you're curious, here's the song, it's really beautiful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxTghSZupv8
> 
> TUMBL BUMBL : http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	10. Huddle

Papyrus wakes up early the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed. He thinks back to your singing and what a wonderful way it is to fall asleep. While he loves stories and Sans reading to him, it's always nice to hear different things as well.

Papyrus brings his hand up to his face and rubs his jaw cunningly. Maybe this will provide a perfect excuse for you to come over often.

And a perfect opportunity for you and Sans to spend more time together.

Papyrus hops out of bed and gets ready for the day, putting on his armor and athletic clothes. He heads out of his room to the kitchen to start breakfast. Sans also has to work today so he makes some for his brother as well.

Once done, he heads to Sans’ room and knocks softly.

“Good morning brother. It is time to wake up. I made breakfast for us.”

He brings his skull close to the door to see if he can hear movement. He catches some shifting and grumbles.

He chuckles quietly to himself as Sans responds, muffled, “m’awake. be out in a sec.”

Nodding, he crosses back through the living room and sits down at the table to begin eating. He hears Sans’ door open and the familiar shuffle as Sans enters the kitchen. He glances at his brother, mildly surprised. While Sans always looks tired to some extent, he seems better-rested today. The circles under his sockets are not quite as dark, Papyrus thinks.

A small feeling of relief spreads through Papyrus. He wonders if it has anything to do with you. He sincerely hopes so.

Sans gives a tired wave as he heads over to the coffee pot.

“mornin’ paps. sleep ok?”

“Yes brother. It seems like you did as well.”

Sans’ movements are steady as he fixes his mug of coffee, but he does pause a beat before answering.

“i guess i did.”

Papyrus leans back in his chair, head tilted over the back as he gazes at Sans slyly.

“Did you have _good dreams_?”

Sans catches the playful tone in Papyrus’ voice and finally looks over at his brother. He raises his brow-bone.

“they were alright?”

Papyrus brings his hand up to his face, pretending to examine it; _totally_ nonchalantly.

“Hmm. What were they about? Anything or any _one_ in particular?”

Sans eyes widen fractionally and he turns back to his coffee, grasping the mug by the handle as he lifts it to take a sip. It’s hot, but it goes down smooth. It’s not that it actually wakes him up by chemical processes; it’s more about the ritual of drinking coffee in the morning that Sans enjoys. The taste ain’t too shabby either.

As far as his dreams go, neither were they.

Sans turns fully toward Papyrus, hand in one pocket, mug in the other. He gives his brother an amused expression. He has a feeling he knows what Papyrus is trying to get at.

“ya seem to know more than me, bro.”

He makes his way to the table, sitting across from Papyrus.

Papyrus straightens up and places both arms on the table. He locks eyes with Sans. Sans’ amused expression shifts to apprehension very quickly.

“Brother, do you need dating advice.”

Sans closes his eyes and throws his head back, groaning.

“Do not be ashamed to ask! I shall help you!”

Sans brings up his hand and drags it over his face, eyes still closed. “paps, it’s too early for this.”

“IT’S NEVER TOO EARLY!”

Sans leans forward onto the table, one arm laying in front of him as he takes another sip of the coffee. He gives Papyrus a skeptical stare.

“Sans…. Do you like ___ or not? Be truthful, as I shall know if you are not!”

Sans gives a heavy sigh. There’s no avoiding it now. “and what if i did like ‘em. what then?”

Papyrus throws up his hands. “Well then that would be PERFECT! I only wish to see you happy, brother. And it seems like you are happier around them.”

Sans is quiet for a moment. His fingers wrap around the hot ceramic, leaking heat into the bones of his hand. He stares into his coffee mug, thinking about you, before responding, “yeah?”

Papyrus nods vigorously before shooting him a wry glance. “You may not think I notice things, but I do, brother. Especially when it comes to you.”

Sans gives Papyrus a small smile. “well then i guess i’m lucky to have such a great brother.”

Papyrus smiles back brightly. “Of course, but the same could be said for myself.”

Sans chuckles, “you’re too good to me, paps.”

“Never too good brother! Now, I have a plan.” He leans closer to Sans, a skeleton on a mission.

“lay it on me.”

“Our friend wanted to meet Undyne and Alphys at some point. I would like that to happen as well. Perhaps this weekend it could be a possibility. I can ask Undyne and Alphys and _you_ can text our friend.”

Sans thinks for a moment, warming up to the idea. He’s always down to hang out with you again anyway. He takes another pull from his coffee.

“that sounds like a pretty good plan. but it doesn’t seem as devious as you were makin’ it out to be.”

Papyrus leans even closer, practically on top of the table as he winks his eye rapidly.

“Here is the _devious_ part, brother. You know how much Undyne and Alphys like to _sleep over_ , yes?”

Sans eyes widen as he looks at Papyrus.

He breathes out a soft, “oh.”

Papyrus, looking immensely proud of himself, leans back into his chair, crossing his bony arms across his broad chest as he does so.

“We will have so much fun and stay up _so late_ , there is _no_ possible way we could let them drive home at that time of night. Is there Sans?”

Sans grins widely. “nope.”

“EXACTLY! It is settled!”

“you’re truly a master of puzzles, paps.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I will make sure everything goes smoothly, but the rest is up to you. Don’t mess it up!”

Sans laughs. Being around you is probably the easiest thing he’s ever done. “i’ll try not to.”

“Good! Now I must head to work. Undyne will most likely already be at the gym. Have a good day at work and DON’T FORGET TO TEXT ___.”

“i won’t. you have a good day too, bro. see ya later.”

Papyrus puts his plate in the sink and pats Sans on the head as he passes by and heads out the door. He stands on the porch for a minute, hands on his hips.

“Papyrus, you are a genius. NYEH HEH HEH!”

\------------

You wake up that morning to your phone buzzing on your nightstand. You throw your arm out from underneath the covers and pat around the top, hand seeking the offending noise. You finally grab it and bring it towards your face, eyes blinking groggily. You squint hard to try and focus. It’s from Sans.

You’re a little more awake now.

You wonder what he could be texting you about this morning. It’s not obscenely early, but you would definitely still be sleeping. You slide the screen and unlock your phone, going to your messages.

_\- mornin_

_\- ya free this weekend?_

You drop the phone on your chest for a moment to wipe your eyes so you can respond properly. You type lethargically onto the screen with your thumb.

**_\- Hey, good morning. Yeah. What’s up?_ **

_\- wanna come over friday and get together with yours truly, paps, and our friends undyne and alphys?_

Heck yeah, it sounds like a ton of fun. You’re pretty sure you’ve got nothing else going on, except homework. But who wants to do that anyway.

**_\- Yeah! I’ve been wanting to meet your friends._ **

_\- cool. you guys’ll get along well i think_

**_\- I hope so._ **

_\- ya will. just be yourself._

**_\- Well I’m pretty great at doing that._ **

_\- the best_

**_\- Darn right._ **

You sit up and roll out of bed to start getting ready for the day. You have several days before the weekend. But you do go back to classes today, unfortunately. Your accident excused you for several days, but not for longer than that.

You spend the rest of the morning gathering all your materials for class. Once ready, you leave your apartment and climb into your truck, heading to the university. Parking is a bit of a nightmare on campus so you park some ways away to avoid all the nonsense. You don’t particularly mind walking, especially when the weather is nice and chilly like it has been the past couple days.

Once you get to your classroom, your classmates bombard you with questions about your accident. How did it happen? How’s your arm? Did your truck explode? How did you get out?

You try to answer them to the best of your ability, but when you explain to them how you were saved by two monsters, you get mixed reactions. Your friends are just relieved, even a little excited that it was two monsters. Others…not so much. The disdain shows on some of their faces, muttering in low tones. You catch some words and parts of phrases: “monsters?”, “surprised they didn’t eat them”, “horrible”, “wouldn’t let them come near me.”

It hurts you to hear them even talk about Sans and Papyrus like that. Your protective side rages. You turn to the people talking amongst themselves, shooting them icy glares that make the classroom fall silent.

“It doesn’t matter who or what they are. They saved my life. So don’t you dare badmouth them. You _will_ respect them.”

Shocked, they don’t respond and try to avoid your stare, going back to preparing for class.

You sigh, calming down, and your friends give you sympathetic glances. You shrug and smile at them, catching up on what you missed while you were absent.

The door opens and the professor walks in. He looks up and notices you sitting there. He smiles as he comes up to you, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome back. I’m very glad to see you’re alright.”

You look up into the kind face of your professor and grin.

“Me too. It’s good to be back.”

He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before moving to his seat to start class. You exhale.

You’re already ready to start the weekend.

\--------------

The next couple of days pass by pretty uneventfully. You go to the rest of your classes and make sure you get your homework done ahead of time in preparation for the weekend.

But at least Sans and Papyrus have been keeping you company. You and Sans text each other periodically throughout the day with random jokes or anything that really crosses your mind.

You find yourself missing them. Missing him.

Thank god it’s finally Friday.

You get home after your class and immediately drop everything on your couch. Fridays are your early seminars, so you’re both starving and tired when you get home. You slowly get up from the couch to hunt for food in your kitchen. As you microwave up some leftovers, you pull out your phone to text Sans about tonight.

**_\- Heya. What time should I head over tonight?_ **

_\- 7 sound alright?_

**_\- No_ **

_\- uh what time is good for u then?_

**_\- I’m just fuckin’ with ya. 7 sounds great lol._ **

_\- was it as good for u as it was for me_

**_\- Better than I imagined._ **

You laugh loudly. You love to banter with Sans. His humor is so easy to bounce off of. But the sound of the microwave dinging pulls you out of your thoughts, and you put your phone in your pocket. You turn the TV on as you walk by and go to sit on the couch. As you start eating, you hear your phone go off again. You place your food on the coffee table and fish the phone out of your pocket.

**_-_ ** _thats nice to hear_

**_\- Mhmm. I’m excited for tonight tho. Been a few days since I saw y’all._ **

_\- yah it’s been a little while. paps n i miss ya kid_

**_\- Miss you guys too_ **

And you do. It’ll be nice to unwind from the week and just hang out with some friends, and hopefully make new ones. You wonder what Undyne and Alphys are like. You assume pretty cool if they’re friends with Sans and Papyrus.

You finish eating and watch TV for a while. Eventually you decide to take a quick shower before you leave. You still have a couple hours until 7. As you step out of your bathroom, you wonder what you should wear tonight. Nothing you’d regret wearing after several hours. Your wardrobe is _all_ about comfort first. But you’re not gonna look like a slob for your first impression, as much as you like wearing pajamas. So you pull out a pair of jeans and one of your nicer band shirts, as well as a good jacket. It’s still a bit cold outside, but you doubt you’ll leave the house once inside. If it were a little warmer, you’d wear your sandals, but for now a pair of flats will do.

It’s getting pretty close to 7, so you finish getting ready and gather your things in your bag. You head downstairs and check your phone. 6:50. Eh, you’ll be fashionably late.

You text Sans that you’re on your way as you step out of the door, locking it behind you. You get into your truck and head over to the skeleton brother’s house, your excitement mounting. Meeting new people is always both fun and nerve-wracking. You exhale heavily to try and get rid of the jitters invading your muscles.

As you pull up, there’s already a car parked next to Papyrus’. You assume it’s Undyne’s or Alphys’. You park behind both and turn your truck off.

You stretch your neck. “Go time, ___.”

You get out of your truck and make your way to the front door. Before you can even knock, the door is thrown wide open to a wrestling match between Papyrus and another monster.

Is she a…fish monster?

She has fins for ears, a sick eyepatch, and a wide toothy grin. She seems just as tall as Papyrus, but blue and buff as all hell. Not huge, but toned.

And her hair is _fantastic_. Long and flaming red. It's a shade you only really see in those clear, summer sunsets. 

Her and Papyrus grapple in the doorway. Papyrus eventually finds himself in a headlock and the monster looks victoriously at you, thrusting out her left arm in greeting.

“Hey punk! You must be the human I’ve heard so much about. Nice to meet ya. The name’s Undyne!”

While the wrestling was a little jarring at first, you truly appreciate her candor. It makes it casual and comfortable to relate. You smile back widely and grip her hand firmly, shaking it.

“Hi Undyne. I’m ___. Nice to meet you too!”

“Good handshake! I like ‘em.” She turns to Papyrus and gives him a noogie on his skull.

“DO NOT NOOGIE THE SKELETON!”

Papyrus bats away Undyne’s hand and waves vigorously at you from beneath her arm.

“Hello human! We are glad you are here!”

You laugh, “Me too, Papyrus.”

Undyne finally releases Papyrus and backs further into the house. You follow them inside, giving Papyrus a hug. Standing a bit away from the door are Sans and another monster, who looks to you like a yellow lizard. Undyne strides over to them and wraps an arm around their shoulders, hugging the monster tight to her side.

“This is Alphys! She’s great!”

Alphys laughs nervously as you stop in front of her and extend your hand.

“Hey Alphys, I’m ___. Nice to meet you too.” You give her a big smile. She looks timid, but very sweet, and you think all she needs is a friend. You understand her nervousness. You can get the same way meeting new people.

She smiles back and shakes your hand.

“H-hello! It’s great to m-meet you as well!”

Sans is watching the interaction from the side with his trademark grin. You finally turn to him and give him a big hug too.

“Hey there, lazybones.”

He chuckles. “hey lefty. glad you’re here.”

You pull back, smiling. “Same.”

You turn around as Undyne shouts, “Let’s order some pizza!”

Everyone heads into the living room and you place your bag next to the coat hanger where you hang up your jacket after shrugging out of it. You follow them in.

“So punk. Heard you got in an accident and these boneheads saved ya.”

You nod as you sit down on the couch next to Undyne and Alphys. The brothers are in the kitchen ordering pizza.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky they were there. Only got a broken arm and a soon-to-be rad scar on my head from it.” You laugh.

Undyne gets up to look at your head. She folds her arms in front of her and leans back.

“Yep. That’s gonna be a cool one.”

“Not as cool as some of yours though.”

She laughs and flexes her arms. “Ya got that right, punk!”

You smile and ask, “So what do you both do? As in work and stuff?”

“I’m a trainer and coach at the gym with Papyrus!”

Alphys smiles at Undyne before turning to you. “I w-work at the university in the Engineering department.”

You grin, excited. “No way! The one downtown?”

She nods.

“Yo, I go to school there! Art history. Not really engineering, but whatever. We should meet up for lunch sometime! Could help break up your workday and my classes.”

She brightens, looking slightly less nervous. “T-that’d be really nice! I’d l-like that a lot.”

Undyne sits back down and throws an arm around Alphys. “Sounds like a great idea.”

You ask Undyne, “So is there any specific sport or area you do in the gym?”

She shrugs, “Little bit of everything. It’s usually either personal training with clients, lifting, or teaching swimming.”

You throw up your left arm. “I love to swim! Haven’t been able to go in a while because of the busted flipper, though.”

Undyne leans towards you excitedly. “That’s awesome. When your arm is done being lame, you should come by the gym and show me your skills!”

You grin back at her. “It’s a deal.”

Sans and Papyrus come back into the living room.

“We have ordered the pizzas and they should be here shortly!”

Everyone cheers as Sans moves to sit between you and Alphys on the couch. The couch is big, but any more than four bodies on it, and there’s gonna be a problem. As it is, Sans is practically up against you. Not that you really mind.

Papyrus stands with hands on hips in front of everyone on the couch.

“What does everyone want to watch?”

Sans shrugs, responding, “whatever is good with me.”

Undyne yells, “ANIME!”

Alphys gets equally excited, pointing at Undyne. “W-what she said!”

You laugh and nod. “I’m good with that. Anime is great.”

Undyne claps, shouting, “Yo this kid knows WHAT’S UP!”

Alphys in the meantime, jumps from the couch and heads quickly to her bag on the floor, pulling out copies of animes she brought over.

“We can watch any of these, or a-all of them!”

Sans laughs while you, Papyrus, and Undyne shout, “ALL OF THEM!”

She slides one into the DVD player and presses play. As she makes her way to the couch, Undyne plucks her up and places her on her lap. Alphys laughs shyly as Undyne hugs her. You smile, guessing they were a couple. They are too cute.

Papyrus settles into Alphys’ now-vacant spot and you all start watching the anime for a while before you hear knocks at the door. Sans looks over toward the door, then at you.

“wanna help me get the pizzas?”

You nod and smile, “Sure.”

You both get up from the couch and head toward the door. Sans hands you some money.

“you pay and i’ll carry the boxes.”

“Gotcha.”

He opens the door and you’re greeted by a teenager with some boxes. His eyes widen as he stares at Sans a little longer than is necessary. Sans just smiles wider and winks at him. He gives a nervous laugh and says the total as he hands over the boxes to Sans.

“Here you go, kid. Keep the change.” You hand him the right amount of bills.

He nods and says thank you, giving you both a bright smile before running off. You both chuckle as you head back inside, shutting the door. You make your way to the kitchen and start getting out plates for everyone. You have to stand on your tiptoes for a couple more plates, struggling to reach the higher shelves.

Sans places the boxes on the table and notices you trying to get more plates. He laughs to himself and comes up beside you, placing his hand on the small of your back. Your shirt had ridden up a little and he can feel the smooth skin of your back. You look down at him, a little surprised, and laugh.

"I'm short."

He grins. “lemme help.”

His eye lights up and a couple of plates float down onto the countertop. You lower yourself and straighten out your shirt as he removes his hand.

You flash him a wry smile. “Pretty handy.”

He brings up his hands and wiggles his bony fingers. “i’d say it’s more hands off.”

You giggle as you place the plates in his hands.

“Well these are for you.”

“just what i always wanted. how did ya know.”

You shrug and wink. “I call it, _skelepathy_.”

He laughs loudly at that as you both move to the table. You lean on the chair and yell into the living room, “Pizza’s ready, come and get it!”

Undyne and Papyrus rush into the kitchen with Alphys trailing behind. You wait until they’re done and back on the couch before you and Sans get yours. You both grab a couple slices and head back into the living room. Once Sans sits down, you notice there’s not much space as everyone has spread out. Sans glances at you and grins. Waiting.

“Well, you’re either gonna have to scooch or I’m sittin’ on ya.”

He opens his arms out lazily, giving you a wink as he does it.

“movin’ sounds like a lotta work.”

You laugh and roll your eyes as you climb onto Sans lap, resting your back against the arm of the couch.

Undyne wolf-whistles and shouts, “WOOOOO!”

You burst out laughing, only slightly embarrassed. Sans laughs beneath you as well, his low chuckles rolling through his chest and vibrating through your body. It’s soothing in a way.

“Can’t say this’ll be particularly comfortable for you, but you asked for it.”

“don’t worry ‘bout me. m’fine.”

And he is. Sans is _more_ than fine right now as he feels the heat and weight of you on his bones. Your body pressing up against his. He sighs almost imperceptibly and starts to eat his pizza. You do as well, balancing the plate with a combination of your knees and your right fingers. Once everyone is done, Papyrus takes the plates and you all continue watching the show. Sans eventually places his left arm on the armrest behind your back, just barely touching you. His right arm is up behind his skull as he watches the TV.

You start to shift a little closer to Sans, angling your body more toward the TV and crossing your legs to get more comfortable.

“y’ok?” Sans whispers in your ear.

You give him a faint smile. “Yeah, sorry. Lemme know if my moving bothers you.”

Sans’ arm responds. He brings it up, flush with your back, fingers curling softly around your arm, drawing you closer. He lowers his right arm down across your knees to help you move. Once he makes sure you’re settled, he leaves it there, a comforting weight on your legs. You sigh and lean into him a little more. His fingers tighten and his thumb starts rubbing the flesh of your arm.

You could probably stay like this forever.

You don’t know it, but so could Sans.

His mind can’t help but wander, marveling at how soft you are as his thumb glides up and down your arm. He wonders if you’re comfortable against the bones of his legs, but when he looks down at you, you seem more than content. He hums, just enjoying the closeness.

You all marathon the DVDs that Alphys brought, chatting and laughing and yelling at the characters on screen, until you start to notice a distinct lack of noise. You glance down the couch and notice the others have fallen asleep.

Undyne is stretched across the couch, legs on Papyrus, with Alphys in her arms. All are out cold.

You turn your head towards Sans and see that he’s asleep too; his hand having stilled some time ago. You slowly and gently reach into your pocket for your phone to check what time it is.

Wow, it’s very late. You debate whether you want to wake up Sans or not. He looks so relaxed. And part of you really doesn’t want to leave, but you don’t want to crash if they’re not cool with it. You end up poking Sans in the ribs to try and wake him up, moving a little as you do. He grumbles and his arms tighten, pressing you against him. You laugh quietly to yourself and start tapping him on the sternum.

He opens his eyes at that, albeit groggily.

“hmm?”

You give him a small smile. “Hey. Sorry to wake you, but everyone’s passed out. It’s pretty late, should I get going?”

He blinks, more awake now, and shakes his head, turning it to look at the others.

“no. stay the night. too late to drive anyways.”

You furrow your brow. “You sure?”

He turns his attention back to your face, smiling. “yeah. wanna help me put paps to bed?”

“Yeah.”

He releases you and you slowly get up, stretching your cramped body. Sans gets up too, and turning to Papyrus, grabs his hand, gently tugging him awake.

Papyrus opens his eyes tiredly and yawns, stumbling off the couch.

“time for bed, bro.”

Papyrus nods and turns to you, putting both hands on your cheeks, squashing your face.

“Human, stay. Too late. No driving.”

Sans chokes back a quick laugh and you try smiling, patting his hand gently with yours.

“Ok, I’ll stay, Papyrus.”

He nods again and you and Sans lead him to his bedroom. Sans tucks him in and you whisper to him softly, “Good night Papyrus.” You place another small peck on his forehead.

He hums at you both as you walk out and shut his door. You head back down the hallway to the living room, preparing yourself for a night on the couch.

Until you spot Undyne and Alphys, who have totally sprawled across the whole of it.

You give a small laugh and look at Sans out of the side of your eyes.

“Got any pillows for the floor?”

He rolls his eyes. “you’re not sleepin’ on the floor.”

“Where, pray tell, may I rest my weary head then?”

“you take my bed. i’ll find somewhere to sleep.”

You turn to him quickly, shaking your head forcefully.

“ _No_ way. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, don’t be dumb.”

He laughs quietly at that. You think for a second, grasping your chin.

“I have a plan if you’re willing to listen and consider.”

“shoot.”

“If you’re not all weirded out by it, I can sleep on one side of your bed and you can sleep on the other, since we won’t let each other sleep on the floor. It looked big enough to me. I don’t need much space.”

You see Sans’ eyes widen and his eye-lights flash for an instant. Desire lights up his soul.

You hold up your hand. “But it’s _completely_ up to you. If you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll insist on sleeping on the floor. I don’t mind.”

“no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. just wanna make sure you’re ok with it.”

You elbow him. “I am if you are.”

He smiles at you, and leads the way into his room.

“well, let’s get ready for bed then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> Gotta pay the troll toll. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also excuse any typos (I've written like 35 pages in 3 days). Lemme know how it turned out tho! Thank you again for reading, commenting, kudoing, and being just effin' fantastic ppl, BBs. <3
> 
> BUMBL TUMBL: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	11. Share

You follow Sans into his room. He starts straightening it a bit, making sure the bed is clear. You take your shoes off by his door and move to help him, but he takes your shoulders and steers you to sit on the bed. He grins at you and you laugh.

“Ok, I guess you don’t want me to help.”

“nope.”

He heads to his dresser and opens one of the drawers, taking out a shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He hands the shorts to you.

“figure those’d be more comfortable to sleep in than jeans.”

You’re warmed by his thoughtfulness.

“Yeah, thank you. These are great. I’ll go and get changed.”

He nods. “ya know where everything is.”

You give him a thumbs up, smiling as you get up from the bed and head into the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door, you let your heart finally race a bit. It forces you to take a big breath to not let it get out of control. It’s not that sharing a bed with a friend is a big deal.

It’s that that friend is Sans.

Whom you’re starting to like maybe more than you should.

And whom you’re beginning to think of in…ways.

You feel your soul pulse again when you think about it. You huff as you take off your sling, shimmy out of your jeans and pull on the shorts.

“Just fuckin’ chill and get your shit together, ___, geez.” You mumble under your breath.

While you’re in the bathroom Sans takes the opportunity to get changed himself. He shrugs off his hoodie and takes off his shirt, replacing it with the clean one. Feelings of nervousness and excitement thread through his bones, making his soul hum. He’s _very_ happy you suggested this; he just hopes no nightmares ruin it. He pulls the covers back and slides into bed, folding his arms under his head as he waits for you. He exhales.

“just be cool.”

The shorts are much better than sleeping in jeans. You splash some water on your face before you open the door back out into the bedroom. You shut the light off and turn to the bed. Sans is already on his side of it, laid back, eyes closed. You quietly pad over and lift the covers to slide in next to Sans, also laying on your back. You get comfortable, placing your right arm over your stomach and your left by your side.

“the shorts alright?”

You turn your head toward him and you make your body follow, laying on your side. He’s looking at you now.

You smile and nod slightly. “Yeah, they’re really comfy. Thanks again.”

He smiles back at you before turning his head to look at the ceiling, brow furrowed. He seems like he has something on his mind.

“Hey. What’s up?”

He shrugs. “…remember when i told ya i don’t sleep well sometimes? just hope i don’t keep ya up if i don’t.”

You frown slightly and then poke one of his ribs kinda hard. He starts and grabs his side, a confused expression on his face.

“what was that for?”

“Cuz you’re being silly and looking sad. Don’t worry.”

You reach over again and tug his shirt.

“Hey, turn this way.”

He chuckles slightly and rolls over on his side. You reach your hand up and let the back of your fingers fall softly on his face. You stroke under his jaw, up along his eye-socket, and over to his hard cheekbone. He closes his eyes for a moment, relishing your tender touch.

“If you get a nightmare, I’ll be here for you. If you don’t, I’ll still be here, just sleeping instead. It’s a win-win, in my opinion.” You grin at him and place your left hand back in front of you.

His face relaxes and he moves a bit closer to you. You’re nearly face to face now. He brings his left hand up. Bony fingers trail slowly up your forearm before lacing in between yours.

Your heart nearly skips a beat.

He’s staring straight into your eyes with a grateful and serious look.

“thank you.”

You squeeze his hand hard. He returns it. You smile.

“I’m happy to.”

You scoot a little closer and breathe out a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Good night Sans.”

“night ___.”

His thumb strokes your hand until you both fall asleep.

\--------------

You wake up early the next morning mildly confused. The colors aren’t familiar and you feel heavy as your eyes open and take in the surroundings. You’re in Sans’ room. You almost forgot you slept over. In Sans’ bed no less. But that doesn’t explain why you feel so heavy. You raise your left hand to rub your eyes, but find you can’t.

Oh.

It’s because Sans is currently the owner of it. The bones of his hand are interlaced with yours. You follow them up his wrist to his forearm.

OH.

No wonder you feel heavy. At some point during the night he’d thrown his arm over your middle so you both were spooning. Your soul is vibrating, making your body tingle. You clutch Sans’ hand in response. You’re almost positive he’s still sleeping, but you feel his arm tighten around you, drawing you close to his body. You feel his chest against your back and his warm breath on your neck. It sends shivers down your spine.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind always waking up like this.

You close your eyes again.

Sans wasn’t entirely asleep.

He felt you stiffen as you woke up, gauging the situation. When you squeezed his hand, he felt you relax and he reacted in kind. He pulled you closer to him. You’re so warm and he’s almost positive he slept better because you were there. It certainly didn’t hurt. He can feel your soul thrum and the shivers traveling down your body. When he feels your breaths deepen as you fall back asleep, he’s more than happy to join you.

The next time you wake up, it’s a bit brighter in the room and you think you can hear movement beyond Sans’ bedroom door. Sans had let go of your hand at some point; instead, his is curled and tucked around your abdomen. You lift your hand and rub your eyes to clear the sleep from them. You feel Sans shifting behind you. His hand drags across your bare stomach. Your shirt had ridden up your torso during the night so when his hand skirts across your body, it’s right along your skin. You breathe out a soft gasp, exhaling shakily.

Sans hears you and his bones barely rattle as a soft rumble resonates in his chest. He loves the way you feel. And he loves making you feel this way.

Your soul and skin sing from the sensation. Tingling in waves. Your muscles twitch and you give a tired laugh as it tickles slightly.

Sans notices and laughs too, his breath fluffing your hair.

“ticklish, huh.”

“And what if I was?”

He chuckles again. “then i’d have to experiment to prove my hypothesis.”

He brings his hand down again and starts tickling your stomach. You bite down on your fist to keep yourself from squealing as you writhe under Sans’ hand. A few laughs escape your lips as Sans laughs with you.

You grab his hand and push it away from your stomach, breathing hard.

You whisper at him harshly, “Ok, ok, uncle! I give. Yes, I’m ticklish.”

“good to know.”

You turn over, coming face to face with a sleepy, yet satisfied skeleton. You smirk.

“Are _you_ ticklish?”

“no,” Sans responds, but a beat too late.

“Liar, you hesitated.”

You move your hand quickly to his side and begin tickling the bones there. He starts laughing and immediately snatches your hand up. You grin in victory.

“Knew it. You’re lucky I only have one hand to spare right now.”

He buries his face into his pillow and you hear a muffled, “whatever.”

He’s still holding your hand as you both lay there in comfortable silence. You close your eyes again, content.

“So did you sleep ok?”

He lifts his face from the pillow and looks at you.

“yeah. you?”

“I did actually. It was nice.”

His expression relaxes as his eyes soften.

“good.”

“Seems like someone likes to cuddle though.” You say in a singsong manner, flashing him a sly smile.

He laughs slightly and his eye-lights flick down to your joined hands.

“doesn’t sound like someone is complainin’ about it.”

Your tone is more serious as you respond, “No complaints whatsoever.”

Your hand tightens on his. His eyes rise to meet yours again. He moves just a bit closer to you.

He murmurs, “that’s also good to know.”

A heat starts to manifest within you, swirling and spreading. You’re almost not in control of your body anymore as you lean towards him too, even though every nerve is hyperaware.

Aware of the distance.

Aware of the heat.

Aware of him.

You’re so focused on Sans and caught in his gaze that you jump when you hear several knocks on the door. Sans starts too, but not as much. He groans softly. He was anticipating it.

But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t completely and utterly invested in that moment.

Not to mention devastated from the aftermath.

“GET UP HUMAN AND LAZYBONES! Breakfast is ready! We made pancakes!”

“Yeah, up and at ‘em punks!”

You exhale loudly and laugh. “Shit, that scared the living daylights outta me.”

He chuckles and hugs you close, rubbing your back. You press into him, breathing deep to calm your racing heart.

“guess we should get up.”

You agree reluctantly, “I guess so. Thanks for letting me share your bed.”

His hand moves from your back to the side of your face, cradling your cheek in his palm. He lifts himself up and places a toothy kiss to your forehead.

“anytime.”

You close your eyes and sigh, leaning into his hand. After a moment you sit up, pushing yourself up with your left arm. You sit there for a second and adjust to your, now regrettably, upright position. You raise your arm above your head in a stretch, groaning at your protesting muscles.

Sans watches you as you reach toward the ceiling. He catches a glimpse of the skin of your back. His eyes widen and flash and his hands itch to brush across it. He huffs lowly and hugs his pillow instead.

You run your hand through your hair and turn to Sans.

He’s still laying down, wrapped up in his pillow. Lazybones. You don’t blame him though.

You get up from the bed, straightening your shirt. You hate to do this, but it must be done. You take the covers and throw them off of Sans. He whines in protest.

“If you don’t wanna be rolled off the bed, you should probably get up.”

“not like ya could with one arm anyway, lefty.”

You bust out laughing. “I have strong legs.”

He raises himself, propping his head up on his right arm as he smirks at you.

“oh yeah? you should show me sometime. i’d get a kick outta it.”

You laugh again and circle the bed slowly, never breaking eye contact as he turns to follow you. His eye-sockets grow imperceptibly, eye-lights burning holes into yours. You bend over him, laying your hand on his side. You place your head next to his and you can hear his breath catch.

You whisper low, “Or I could just tickle you.”

And you start frantically tickling him.

He gives a deep bark of laughter, squirming underneath you. Your laughs start turning into wheezes. It’s just too much fun.

But you’re caught unaware when he turns towards you suddenly and wraps both his arms around your middle. He hoists you over his shoulder as he stands up, though still mindful of your cast.

You yelp and laugh as he fireman-carries you around the bed.

“I guess this is as good a way as any to get me to stop tickling you.”

He grunts as he places you gently down on the ground, ushering you toward the door.

“no tickling.”

You turn to him quickly, patting his cheekbone.

“But I did win, I got you out of bed.”

He puts his hand over your face.

“yeah, yeah, live it up lefty cuz this ain’t over.”

You both laugh as you open the door and step out into the living room.

Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus are already in the kitchen, eating pancakes. It smells so good and your stomach rumbles.

Undyne raises her fists as you both walk in.

“About time you lovebirds showed up!”

You laugh and punch Undyne on the shoulder as you make your way to the coffee pot. Sans comes up behind you.

“i got it. go eat.”

You smile at him. “Thanks.”

You head over to the table and fill up two plates with pancakes, sitting down next to Undyne and Papyrus and across from Alphys.

“Good morning everyone.”

“M-morning!”

Undyne gives you a thumbs up since her mouth is full.

“Good morning human! I trust you slept well enough!”

You nod. “I did. Sans was nice enough to share his bed.”

You dig into your pancakes and Sans walks up to the table with your coffee, setting it next to you. You look up at him gratefully. You hand him his plate of pancakes in return.

“Thanks again,” you say after you swallow.

“no problem.” Smiling, he moves slightly back to lean against the counter, sipping his own coffee and picking at his breakfast.

Undyne looks between you two and breaks into a huge smile, waggling her eyebrows at you.

“I bet you didn’t get much sleep _at all_.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at her, taking a sip from your coffee.

“Yes, Sans and I were up all night having ‘the sex.’”

Sans immediately chokes and starts coughing, a blue blush spreading across his skull. Undyne and Papyrus whip their attention to him, bright smiles on their faces. Alphys chuckles as she looks on.

You laugh uproariously. “I’m just messing with you guys. Nothing happened, seriously.”

Sans finally composes himself, clearing his throat. You throw him a not-at-all sympathetic glance, smiling at him. His left eye flashes blue and he sticks out his tongue at you. You laugh again and turn back to your pancakes.

Once you’re all finished with your breakfast, you lean back and start chatting.

Undyne speaks up, asking, “So when are Toriel, Frisk, and Asgore moving?”

Intrigued, you listen in on the conversation.

Papyrus responds, “Next week! We are going to help them move!”

Sans nods in agreement.

“Mind if Alphys and I come and help?”

“Not at all!”

It’s not really your place since you don’t know these people, but you’d like to help too if they’re friends of Sans and Papyrus. So you speak up.

“Do y’all need a truck? I could help if you want or needed it.”

Sans and Papyrus share a glance, surprised.

“ya sure? ya don’t have to.”

“Our friends could surely use the help, if you are willing, human.”

You smile at them. “I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.”

Sans looks at you intensely, a sincere smile on his face. Papyrus is thrilled.

“then we’d love to have ya.”

“Yes! Undyne and Alphys shall ride with me and Sans will ride with you, since you do not know the way!”

You and Sans both nod.

“I’ll be ready.”

Undyne flexes her arms. “This’ll be fun!”

Alphys nods.

You all talk for a little while longer before Alphys speaks up, putting her clawed hand on Undyne's arm.

“Undyne, we s-should probably get going.”

She nods at her girlfriend. “Alphys’ got some work she needs to finish at the lab. But we’ll catch ya later!”

She turns to you. “This was fun punk! Let’s do it again sometime.”

You nod happily, “Definitely.”

Before you know it, she’s got you in a headlock, giving your head a soft noogie. You laugh and struggle a little until she lets go, clapping you on the back. You turn to Alphys and give her a big hug.

“Let’s hang out again sometime, ok? You can show me all the anime you have.”

She hugs you back, clearly excited. “Yes, of course!”

You and the brothers walk them outside and watch them drive off. You put your hand in the pocket of your shorts, turning to them.

“They’re pretty awesome.”

Sans chuckles and Papyrus responds enthusiastically, “YES THEY ARE! They loved you by the way!”

You laugh and shrug. “Well I loved them too.”

You sigh as you realize you should probably head home as well.

“Well, I guess I’ll head out too. You’ve probably got errands and such to run today.”

Sans deflates a little, but quickly swivels his head to Papyrus when he yells, “NO.”

You’re just as confused as Sans as Papyrus claps his hands together.

“ _I_ have some errands I need to do today, but _Sans_ does not. You should keep the lazybones company!” He grabs Sans by the shoulders, practically picking him up and placing him in front of you.

You’re a little shocked by Papyrus, mouth hanging open a little.

“Um, yeah I guess I could hang out some more today?” You look at Sans questioningly.

Sans’ eye-sockets are wide, but he shrugs as he shoots you a vaguely shy glance.

“Wonderful, human! I shall leave uh…. NOW!”

With that he runs inside to gather his things and sprints back out, hugging you both at the same time. When he lets go, he runs to his car, shouting, “HAVE FUN TODAY!”

And he’s gone.

You turn to Sans with the most confused expression.

“What was that all about?”

Sans finally relaxes and shrugs again. “just paps bein’ a bro.”

You rest your left hand on your hip.

“Ok then…. Well, let’s go inside, my feet are getting a little cold.” You wiggle your toes and walk into the house, Sans following and shutting the door.

You turn to him. “Mind if I get another cup of coffee?”

“nope.”

“Want one too?”

“actually yeah, please.”

You smile at him. “Comin’ right up.”

You head into the kitchen while Sans settles down onto the couch. He’s secretly thanking Papyrus, even though he can be a little less than…subtle. Any amount of time with you is well spent. He turns the TV on, flipping through the channels.

You come back in grasping the two mugs with your left hand, tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you make sure they don’t spill. You circle around the front of the couch and offer the mugs to Sans.

“Your coffee, good sir.”

He reaches out quickly to grasp the mug. He gives you an apologetic smile. “thanks, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shake your head, laughing and sitting down on the couch next to Sans. “Don’t even worry about it. If I can’t at least carry two mugs in one hand, I’d be pretty useless until I get this stupid cast off.”

He takes a sip of his coffee. “when does it come off?”

You think for a moment, counting back the days since your accident.

“I think a little more than two weeks. They’ll see how it’s healing then decide for sure when I can take it off.”

“does it still hurt?”

“Not really. It throbs sometimes, but it’s definitely better.”

He nods, pleased.

“You ever break anything before?”

He shakes his head. “doesn’t quite work the same way with monsters. my bones are a lot thicker than a human’s anyway.”

You hum, curious. “Do you mind if I look? Like at your arm?”

He chuckles and winks at you. “knock yourself out.”

You lean forward to place your mug on the TV stand and you settle back into the couch, facing Sans with legs crossed. He holds out his arm to you.

You take it carefully, laying it gently on your cast so you can free up your left hand. You bend over it, starting at his elbow. Your fingers run over the surface, memorizing both the smooth and rough parts. You trace his radius and ulna slowly, grasping them to gauge thickness and hefting them for weight. They do seem denser than what you think is normal for a human. Definitely thicker. You move on to the bones of his wrist. Now you lift his arm to face height, leaning in close. The bones aren’t exactly _connected_ , per say. Connected by something. You just can’t see it. Like invisible cartilage.

You assume magic.

Your fingers grasp his hand and rub his bones, feeling the texture. They’re warm and alive like you noticed before. But there’s something else….

You place the back of his hand against your cheek as you stare at the ceiling hard, separating the senses you’re picking up. It’s incessant. Like blood but not.

You glance down at Sans, who is clearly enjoying watching you.

“Your bones hum.”

His grin grows bright. “mhmm. ya know what it is.”

You grin back. “Magic.”

“ya got it.”

“That rocks _and_ rolls.” You plant a big kiss on the back of his hand before letting go.

“Thank you, dear friend, for lending me your hand and indulging my weird requests. Consider myself knocked out.”

He laughs as you bend forward to grab your mug. You straighten yourself on the couch and lean back to watch TV. You take a sip of your coffee and sigh. Coffee is the best.

“I love just having lazy mornings and drinking coffee.”

“yeah?”

“Mhmm. Don’t get to do it during the week really. So it’s kind of a nice thing I like to do on the weekends.”

“ya know, coffee itself doesn’t really wake me up. it’s more the act of drinking it.”

You nod. “I’m the same way. I drink too much for the caffeine to really affect me anymore. It’s just a ritual at this point. But I’m totally ok with that.”

He chuckles and you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching TV. When you’re both done with your coffee, Sans takes your mugs into the kitchen before coming back to sit down.

Eventually you decide you’d be more comfortable laying down. You prop your back against the pillow and armrest and cross your legs off the front of the couch, trying to keep them out of Sans’ way.

Sans notices you recline and cross your legs. He reaches over and pats your knee. You look at him questioningly. He pats his legs in response. Understanding crosses your face and you smile.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

You bring up your legs and lay them across Sans’ lap. You cuddle farther into the cushions and turn your attention back to the TV.

Sans lays his hands lightly on your shins. Intrigued, he spreads his fingers, feeling the bone through your skin.

Weird, Sans thinks.

Thank god I shaved, you think.

His hands continue to travel up and down your shins, wrapping around your calves. He kneads the soft muscle.

You catch him glance over at you and you raise your eyebrow at him, pleased smile on your face.

He smiles faintly.

“scientific inquiry.”

You laugh at that, lidded eyes returning to the screen. His hands could almost put you to sleep though, they feel so nice.

Sans resumes his ministrations. His hands eventually glide up and around your knees. They stroke the soft skin behind your knee, thumbs rubbing the kneecaps. His phalanges briefly skirt underneath the rim of your shorts, and you close your eyes and sigh at that.

Every physical part of you wants him to do that again. So does your mind. But it’s often a cheater; it likes to think ahead too much.

You try to just focus on how great it feels.

And partly on how great it would feel if he just so happened to go higher….

While Sans’ hands are calm and soothing, his mind is anything but right now. He wants so badly to see how far this can go, but the last thing he wants to do is push his luck and you away.

He just needs a sign.

If only he’d been able to kiss you this morning, then he could maybe know what’s in your head, not just your soul.

He’s brought out of the storm of his mind by a soft utterance from you.

“That feels really nice.”

He chuckles to himself. Not the clearest sign, but he can work with it. He decides to play coy.

“what does?”

You bring up your left hand and gesture to your legs and his hands.

He moves his hands down. “this?”

You shrug, eyes still closed. “still good, but not _as_ good.”

He moves his hands back to your knees, gripping them. “here?”

You smile and open one eye to him. “Warmer.”

His grin broadens and he moves his hands fractionally higher, fingers under the hem of your shorts.

You exhale and hum out, “Yeah.”

He smirks, excitement buzzing through his soul. His fingers stray a little higher, resting comfortably mid-thigh. His thumbs begin to stroke the muscles. He watches as you shift and sigh heavily.

You throw your arm over your eyes, an internal struggle going on in your heart and mind. This feels wonderful. So wonderful that it’s almost unfair you both are dancing around the elephant in the room. It’s almost unfair that you both can tease but only cautiously because you haven’t even _really_ kissed yet. It seems obvious to you that you and Sans both want the same thing.

So why the fuck don’t you just make a move, ___?

You’re strong and independent. Only you can do what you want to do. The worst he can say is no and then you’re back where you were.

But you have a feeling he won’t say no.

You steel yourself, gathering up all the courage you can muster in your heated body. You open your eyes, a fire illuminating them.

You move your arm off your face and Sans catches your determined expression, slightly taken aback.

You lift yourself up and lean close to Sans, placing your hand on his cheekbone.

You’re so close.

Your eyes search his face quickly for any signs of apprehension or aversion. You find none.

Only desire and anticipation.

So you close your eyes partly as you move your head to his and softly place a kiss to his shocked, toothy grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you shiver with antici.......
> 
> .....pation.
> 
> Enjoy, BBs. Couldn't leave ya hangin' for long. But get ready for following chapters, for real. It's gonna get warm up in here. (PSSSST TAGS AND RATING WILL CHANGE)
> 
> TuuuuuuUUUUMBLR: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	12. Yield

You hear his breath catch and his arms immediately wrap around you, drawing you closer.

After a long moment, you start to pull away, but his hand comes up to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he presses his smile against your lips.

It’s not like any kiss you’ve had before. Of course it’s going to be different. In all ways, including the physical. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is the passion and love behind the intention. It’s electrifying.

He seems to be just as sensitive to pressure as you are, so you start moving your lips in response to his acceptance. He groans, arms tightening, moving you securely onto his lap. Your left hand strokes his cheekbone and moves over the top of his skull to the back.

You part your lips into a breathless smile and pull back slightly, gasping for air. The hand on the back of your head slides toward your jaw and neck, thumb rubbing the skin.

You look into his eyes with wonder and exhilaration and you find the same emotions reflected in his. His grin widens.

“wow.”

You laugh. “You’re tellin’ me.”

You move your arm around his shoulders and press your forehead to his, smiling brightly.

“But that was ok to do? You’re not like freaked out or whatever?”

He laughs and presses his teeth to your lips again.

“why would i be? i’ve been waiting for it for days.”

You smile against them.

“Me too.”

“i’m just glad one of us made a move.”

You laugh and raise your eyebrow at him. “Well, you were makin’ some moves alright.”

His hand drops to lay lightly on your thigh underneath your shorts.

“and did ya like said moves?”

You laugh again and bite your lip at the sensation.

“Definitely.”

Sans sees your teeth gnaw at your lip and his hand tightens on your thigh. His left eye flashes blue for a second.

He practically growls out, “you keep bitin’ your lip, and i’ll have to bite it for ya.”

If you weren’t already hot, you are now. Heat floods your body again, and you hold Sans closer. The exhilaration of these new feelings causes you to be flirtier than you would be normally.

You tilt your head back slightly and make a show of biting your lip again.

Sans moves quickly at that. His arms grab your torso and clutch you to his chest as his mouth crashes against yours. You laugh slightly at his response but are cut off when you feel his teeth part.

Your laugh stops short.

As you open your eyes, you see his left eye flare up. It’s not hot, just warm, but it stokes the fire inside of you all the same.

At that moment you feel something brush against your bottom lip, and you know it’s his tongue. It fluctuates between cool and warm, you think because of the magic bringing it to life. But it’s smooth with just the barest texture, like flexible glass.

He takes his tongue away and replaces it with his teeth. He bites your lip gently, canines tugging at the skin. You groan at the sensation. Sans’ hands begin to rub your back slowly. His tongue comes back to swipe across your tender lip, and you jump at the opportunity to feel what it’s like with your own.

Sans is more than happy to oblige.

You both explore each other’s mouths, only pulling away once to catch your breath. Sans’ hands haven’t stopped rubbing your back. But now, they decide to slip cautiously under the lip of your shirt. You shiver as your skin is exposed to the open air and the strange but comforting presence of his hands against your bare back. You exhale hard, the air in your lungs coming out as a soft moan.

Sans’ fingers dig into your back as he hears you. He’s on fire and his bones burn with the magic coursing through them.

He breathes out, “what can i do to hear that noise again.”

You chuckle softly. “Lots of things, probably. I’m easy to please. But, we would never leave this house if you did.”

His hands travel up higher, massaging your back and sides.

“i’m ok with that.”

You pull back slightly, a small smile lifting your lips.

“So am I. But there’s no rush, ya know. I’m not going anywhere.”

His left arm slides around to secure you as he brings up his right hand to your face. His fingers trail across your cheek and down to your jaw. His thumb brushes your swollen lips as he looks into your eyes. His left eye has gone out, returning to normal for the time being.

“i know. i’m sorry. let me know if this is going too fast for you. it’s just been a while.”

You kiss his thumb. “Been a while since what?”

“since i really let myself enjoy anything.”

You smile sadly and turn your head to kiss his palm.

“Well, let’s just enjoy ourselves, ok? No pressure or anything.”

He smiles genuinely at you, once again pressing his mouth to yours for a long moment.

“ok.”

After you separate, you lay your head on his shoulder and cuddle against him as he holds you soundly on his lap.

Your hand is laying on his chest, slowly tracing the lines of his ribs and sternum. He sighs and his fingers tighten fractionally.

“so was that weird for you?”

You laugh loudly, taken aback. “What was weird? The kissing?”

He chuckles, a little shy. “uh, yeah i guess.”

Your residual laughs jostle your body as you try to calm down.

“No, it wasn’t weird. Different, but not weird. I loved it. I love _doing_ it. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs and laughs with you. “i dunno. you’re a human and i’m a skeleton monster.”

You purse your lips. “That’s pretty othering. We’re equals in this dude. You like me, I like you. That’s all that matters.”

He chuckles and leans down to kiss you.

“can’t argue with attraction.”

“Nope, so don’t even try.”

You kiss for a little longer until he pulls away again to look seriously into your eyes.

“wanna stay the night again?”

“I’d be lying if I said no. But it’s only if you want me to as well.”

He raises his brow, smirking. “what do _you_ think?”

You throw your head back and place the back of your hand along your forehead, feigning confusion.

“I know I said I have skelepathy, but I just _don’t know_ what you want. You must tell me.”

Sans is entranced by your exposed throat, eye flaring up again.

“i’ll show you what i want.”

He bends over you and glides his tongue up the side of your throat.

You gasp, “Oh, _wow_.”

He kisses back down the length of it, until he comes to the base, where he bites down with slight pressure.

The mounting excitement nearly uncoils in your body from that alone as you let out a long moan.

His sharp canines press just a hair harder at that before he releases you, tongue laving the mark he leaves.

You’re breathing hard as he moves his face back up to yours. You flash him an enthusiastic smile.

“ _That’s_ a way to hear that noise again.”

His hand traces your throat as he laughs. “i’ll keep that in mind. so. do ya know what i want now?”

You tap your chin. “I’m getting the vague feeling that you want me to stay tonight.”

He hums and kisses your throat again. “and your answer?”

Your hand lays on his skull as you revel in the sensation.

“Yes, I’ll stay tonight.”

“good.”

He leans back and his right hand weaves through your hair, combing it slowly as you sit in his arms. You both enjoy each other’s company and light touches as you watch TV.

Eventually, your stomach growls and you look up at Sans as he looks down at you.

“You hungry?”

He laughs and nods.

“Is there leftover pizza?”

“i think so. it’s in the fridge.”

You start to get off Sans’ lap and he lets you go, reluctantly.

“Perfect. I like cold pizza.”

You head into the kitchen and Sans follows you to the fridge. You take out a slice and hand it to Sans before getting your own. You bite into it, satisfied.

You both lean back against the counter while you eat your pizza.

You speak up, “I should probably stop by my place to get a change of clothes if I’m gonna stay another night.”

Sans looks over at you. “wanna take a lazy way? faster than drivin’.”

“Teleport?”

He nods.

You think for a second. “It’d definitely be convenient. But how does that like…work for you? I don’t want you to expend your magic or whatever.”

He chuckles. “nah. it _is_ based on energy, but doing it a couple times isn’t gonna end me.”

You smile and finish your pizza, a little relieved. “Good.”

Suddenly, you turn and step so you’re standing directly in front of him. You bring up your finger and draw a line down his chest. His eyes smolder as you smirk.

“Don’t wanna make you tired for tonight.”

His hands come up to rest on your hips.

“don’t worry. i’ll have more than enough energy for that.”

You snicker as he tugs your hips to him so you’re resting against his body. You kiss Sans again, hard. He responds in kind, hands sliding up your sides, pushing your shirt up. Your skin is electric from his touch.

You sigh and push slightly on his chest, separating from him. You laugh breathlessly.

“As much as I love it, we’re getting off-track.”

He chuckles and pulls you in again for a hug as he stands up straight.

“alright. ready?”

You nod and grab him, nestling your face next to his neck. You hear his eye snap to life and then you both fall.

Straight into your bedroom.

You’re shaking a little from the exhilaration and Sans feels it. One hand strokes your back while the other lays on your hair.

“you ok?”

You nod and exhale, “Yeah, it’s just an adventure every time.”

You pull away and as soon as you step back, a wave of dizziness washes over you and you hastily grab at Sans’ arm to steady yourself. Sans reaches for you, worry in his eyes.

“hey, you’re alright. just breathe.”

You close your eyes as he moves you to your bed, gently sitting you down. You breathe in through your nose and out your mouth.

“need some water?”

“Nope, just time. I’ll be fine.” You open your eyes and give Sans a small smile. His face is full of concern.

You bump against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Already feel better.”

The worry in his face only ebbs slightly.

“ya sure?”

You nod and push yourself off the bed to stand. He follows, making sure you don’t fall again. You turn to him and lay your hand on his face for a moment.

“I’m good now. Thanks for the concern.”

“duh.”

You chuckle and head over to your closet to grab another shirt and some comfy pants. As well as some nice underwear, just in case, you think to yourself.

Sans watches you pick out your clothes in amusement, hands in his pockets.

As you come out, he glimpses your underwear and he teases, “think you’ll need those?”

You laugh out loud and as you walk to your bathroom, you pat his cheek, giving him a saucy smirk.

“It’s cute you assume you’ll get that far.”

His jaw drops as he laughs, watching you saunter into your bathroom to change. You keep the shorts, but change your shirt, freshening up a bit.

You step out with your change of clothes in your arms and see Sans sitting on your bed, leaning back on outstretched arms. He turns his head to you, lazy grin on his face.

“So I’m still wearing your shorts because they’re comfy. But I’ll definitely give ‘em back to you. As well as your shirt.”

He shrugs and his grin widens.

“keep ‘em.”

“Why? You sure?”

“look better on you than me.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Flatterer.”

“eh, i’m more rounded.” He pats his front.

You laugh even more and hold out your hand to pull him up. He grabs your forearm, hoisting himself up and quickly pulling you into a hug.

“ya good to go?”

“Yep.”

“and ya feel ok?”

You nod. “I’m fine. No worries.”

He kisses you softly for a lingering moment. Your fingers graze the bones of his neck, causing him to groan a little. You separate and his eye comes to life.

“get ready.”

You press closer and you hear a loud pop and fall through nothingness.

Right back into Sans’ bedroom.

Sans’ hands come up to either side of your face, resting lightly as he looks to make sure you’re ok. You lean back and open your eyes, blinking.

You wait to make sure you feel alright, and after a minute, there’s no dizziness or anything.

You smile at Sans.

“Think I’m good.”

He kisses you again quickly. “good.”

You laugh against his teeth. You two separate when you hear Sans’ phone ring.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns, answering.

“hey bro.”

You take the moment to fold up your sweatpants and put them on the dresser. You then move to his bookshelf to peruse his collection. You see only really two kinds of books; joke books and science books. There are some astronomy books, but the overwhelming majority are physics, or some branch of physics. You raise your eyebrows, somewhat surprised. You wonder what his background in it is and how much he knows.

You hear him pad up behind you and his arms snake around your front and across your abdomen. He presses his chest into your back and sets his chin on your shoulder.

“see anything ya like?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m surprised and not so surprised you have so many physics books.”

“why not surprised?”

“You like to observe more than most. A good scientist always observes. Plus, you seem familiar with the scientific method.”

He chuckles and squeezes you.

“that’s a pretty good observation.”

You laugh and rub your hand along the bones of his arms.

“you’re right though. was a scientist in the underground. outta practice now. it was a long time ago.”

“It’s only been a year or so?”

He shakes his head. “ _way_ before the barrier broke.”

“How come you don’t do it anymore?”

“even though i went to school in the underground, my degrees aren’t recognized up here. not yet at least.”

“I bet Alphys had to go through a lot of shit to get recognized at the University.”

He nods and presses the side of his face into your hair.

“part of the reason why i haven’t done anything about them yet.”

“Well…do you love it?”

He hums an admission. “it just makes sense.”

Your fingers latch onto his arms.

“I know there might be a lot of reasons why not, like money and everything, but…if you really love it, you might not regret going for it.”

His arms tighten and his fingers slowly stroke your sides as he’s silent for a moment. You shrug.

“I’m not telling you what to do, by the way. Just a thought to consider.”

He breathes deep the scent of your hair and shakes his head slightly.

“no, it’s a good thought. i’ll keep it in mind.”

You rest your head on his skull as you look back at the books.

“Cool. You should show me some physics stuff sometime. I may not understand right away, but I’m a fast learner.” You laugh.

He kisses your neck. “i’d like that.”

God, you love when he does that. You bring yourself back.

“So what did Papyrus have to say?”

“he’s sleepin’ over at undyne and alphys’.”

You breathe out a soft, “Oh.”

He chuckles low in his throat. Needless to say, when Papyrus told him he was spending the night over there, he was ecstatic.

“yep.”

“Just us.”

“mhmm.” His arms move, spinning you around to face him.

“In the house.” His hands run underneath the back of your shirt.

“alone.”

You smile and slowly lick your lips. His eyes follow your tongue. Your hand mirrors his movements, running along the hem and up under to the first rib.

As soon as you touch it and rub your thumb along the length, his left eye flares and he’s breathing hard.

“This is gonna be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a fuckin' tease WINKWINKWINK
> 
> Sorrynotsorry, the heat is coming up, don't worry.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, BBs. (Also 300+ kudos wtfffff I love you ALL, thank you so much).
> 
> As always, I love your comments and hits and everything. Keep 'em comin' baby. <3
> 
> RLBMUT: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	13. Bare*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS/RATINGS HAVE CHANGED, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED; CHILDREN AVERT YOUR EYES
> 
> EVERYONE ELSE
> 
> look on in mild interest

Your hand drags along the edge of Sans’ ribs. They’re so thick and dense. Just the thought that you’re touching his ribs and he’s letting you is both sobering and intoxicating.

Sans, meanwhile, is unwinding beneath you.

His magic is flaring and it fuels his desire. Not to mention your hands. On his ribs.

Your right arm itches to join in the fun. You groan, frustrated.

“You have no idea how much I hate my cast right now.”

He chuckles weakly, “i might have some idea. but that just means we’ll have to celebrate when it comes off.”

You laugh at that and move close to him. Your arm travels around to his spine, gently fingering the vertebrae.

“I’d like that.”

He hums and shivers under your touch. You smile as you kiss him again.

“Does that feel ok?”

He pulls you closer.

“more than ok.”

“Tell me what you like and don’t like. I want to know.”

He kisses your lips and all the way down to your jaw, resting there as he breathes heavily.

“well this is good.”

Your hand travels farther up his chest to his sternum, shirt riding up on your forearm. It’s starting to get in the way.

You ask softly, “Would you be comfortable taking your shirt off?”

He hesitates for a minute before he kisses your jaw gently, stepping back. He tugs his shirt over his head and throws it on his dresser. He stands in front of you, shifting his weight back and forth, sticking his hands in his pockets. He has a vaguely shy expression on his face and he’s starting to blush.

“well, this is me. bare bones.” He laughs slightly and coughs.

The whole time, you’re staring at him, transfixed. Your eyes light up and trail over the bones of his chest and arms. You step towards him and lay your hand on his sternum, gazing into his face. His eyes meet yours.

“You’re truly amazing.”

Sans’ smile turns genuine as his arms come up to rest on your back. You lean in and kiss his mouth, trailing your kisses down to his jaw, then to his neck. He exhales as you kiss each one of his vertebrae, arms tightening around you.

He grasps your shoulders and pulls back. His hand comes up to rest on your face, thumb stroking your cheek.

“your turn? you comfortable taking your shirt off?”

You nod, a shy smile on your lips.

“Yeah.”

You grip the hem of your shirt and twist it over your arm and head, gently shrugging it over your cast. You toss it onto the dresser with Sans’.

Sans watches you remove your shirt in fascination. He sees your muscles glide and flex as you move and he’s completely amazed and turned on.

You catch him staring and you shiver a bit. You hadn’t worn a bra today, and you don’t like to normally, especially when you sleep, so you’re totally exposed, there’s no hiding.

Your nipples don’t either, hardening in response to the chill and Sans’ heated gaze.

Your instinct is to cover up, but it’s too late for that. And part of you _wants_ Sans to see. So you just accept it and own it.

You gesture to yourself.

“Not exactly the sexiest body alive, but it gets the job done.”

Sans’ eyes snap up to yours, surprised.

“are you kidding?”

The heat in his eyes morphs into desire and his expression does the same. His smile is a combination of awestruck and hungry. It sends a pleasant chill down your spine.

He walks up to you and lays his right hand on your bare side. He moves and begins to circle slowly around you, dragging his hand along your stomach and up to your shoulder.

“you don’t think you’re sexy?”

He’s behind you now and his hand traces the length of your spine, from your neck to the small of your back.

“you don’t think your body is incredible?”

Is this real? Is it physically possible to feel this way? So...hot. Because you are in this moment. There is nothing else you want in the world but him.

His right hand stays on your back as his other comes up to rest on your abdomen. They move to your hips, squeezing them as he circles back around to your front.

“not only from the fact that just its existence in this world is extraordinary, but that you’re _here_ and _letting_ me see you. touch you.”

His hands move up your sides, rubbing the flesh.

“ _you’re_ truly amazing.”

You blush and laugh breathlessly, finding it slightly hard to breathe from your arousal.

“Shit, Sans. If you were trying to turn me on, you sure as hell succeeded.”

You move and press up against him, flush with his body. Your breasts rub up against his ribs, teasing the sensitive tips.

You gasp as your excitement mounts and you hear Sans groan in response. His hands wrap around your back, grabbing your shoulder blades.

The sensation of your body on his ribs ignites Sans. He didn’t know anything could feel this way. But he wants to feel it forever. His eye flares up instantly and his tongue materializes, licking and kissing down the side of your neck until he gets to the place where your shoulder meets your neck.

Instinct takes over. He opens his mouth and bites.

Hard.

You tremble and shift your body wantonly against his. In your shock and mounting lust, you moan his name.

“ _God, Sans_ ….”

That sends him nearly wild. He growls and his jaw twitches, biting just a bit harder.

He finally releases you and his tongue licks over the mark. He kisses it softly before lifting his head to meet your face. You’re breathing hard as his eyes, full of want, stare into yours.

“say that again.”

Your eyes are lidded as you lean your head slightly back and smile seductively. Or as seductively as you can make it.

“Sans….”

He utters another growl, it resonating deep in his chest and you can feel the vibrations pour through your own chest.

His mouth instantly presses against yours and your tongues move with each other. After a long moment, you part; both breathing heavily.

You reach up and place your hand on his cheekbone, caressing him.

“Geez, Sans.”

He lets out a long exhale and grins at you.

“tell me about it.”

“Just…wow.”

His grin turns predatory as he says, “we’re not done yet. it’s only just becoming nighttime.”

You turn your head to the window. He’s right. The colors of sunset are just fading from the sky, giving over to a deep blue-black. You sigh, content in the moment. Though you are still very much aroused.

You turn your head back to Sans and kiss his mouth gently. He leans into it, eyes closed.

He steps backwards until his legs hit the bed and he sits down. His hands move to your hips and tug you closer. You laugh softly and clamber up onto the bed and Sans’ lap, straddling him. He grunts as you lower your weight onto his hips.

“This okay?” You start to move up, but his hands push you down to sit fully on him.

“yeah, just sensitive. m’good.” He kisses you again in earnest.

He pulls away and you lean back slightly, holding tight to his shoulder to keep yourself upright. His hands rub up and down your sides, moving fractionally higher every time, until he gets to your chest. His thumbs stroke along the sides of your breasts and underneath, just feeling the skin.

“so soft.”

You hum in response, loving his tender touch.

His hands then move to cup them, gently squeezing them, feeling their weight. He feels the marks in your skin where it must have stretched and all the dimples and everything else. He loves it. It makes you real.

At one point his thumbs run along your nipples and you give a sharp gasp. He looks at your face, eyes closed in pleasure, mouth open. God, he loves that look. He rubs them again.

You pant out a curse and move your hips in response.

Oh. He likes that very much.

Sans then takes your nipples between his fingers and squeezes them slightly.

You moan. He’s found them, there’s no going back.

You breathe out, “And that’s another way to make me make that noise.”

He chuckles and continues kneading your breasts. His fingers tweak them again and you say something that gets Sans burning.

“Sans…harder. _Please_.”

Sans immediately twists your nipples just a bit harder, and he eagerly looks at your face to see your reaction.

You’re shaking and grasping his shoulder tightly, mouth open and gasping. Just the thought that there are hands that are not your own on one of the most sensitive parts of your body sends you reeling; never mind the feeling is just incredible. No one’s touched you like this in a while. You nearly unwind just from that alone.

Watching you moan in enjoyment stimulates the desire in Sans. He wants you. He wants to see _all_ of you.

His fingers come down and run along the edge of your shorts. You lean forward and press your forehead on his, still breathing hard. You know what he’s asking. You want it too. But your self-consciousness comes back unwanted. You were ok with your chest, but this is a bit different. No matter how strong you are, taking that leap is scary sometimes, no matter how much you want it. 

“can i see you?”

You roll your forehead a little.

“Yes. But give me a minute. Just uh…mustering up my courage.” You laugh, short of breath.

His hands come up and rest on either side of your face; your eyes meet his. The want is there, but it’s tempered by a sobering seriousness.

“hey. don’t do anything _you_ don’t want to do. i’ll _never_ force you to do anything, ok?”

You kiss him and chuckle. “I know. I wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

“there ya are, my spitfire.” He laughs against your lips.

This was what you needed. You know Sans won’t care about anything but you being comfortable. He couldn’t care less what you look like. He’s just happy being with you. And you’re happy just being with him.

You kiss him quickly and stand back up, hand coming up to the top of your shorts. Sans is captivated as he watches you. You exhale and repeat to yourself: own it, you fucking rock.

Your eyes stare at Sans and his look stokes your arousal once again. You give him a crooked, slightly saucy smile as you hook your thumb under the hem on one hip and drag it down slowly, exposing the bones and skin.

Sans leans forward.

You drag your thumb across your stomach to the other hip and drag that down too, shimmying both shorts and panties down in one fell swoop, stepping out of the shed clothes. Fuck it. You’re not gonna give yourself the chance to get shy about layers.

So you stand there as Sans stares, fascinated, eye-sockets wide.

It’s extremely hot.

But you also don’t know what to do with your hands.

At that moment, Sans saves you by grabbing your hand and drawing you close so you’re in between his legs. He lets go of your hand and you move it to his shoulder, but not before caressing his face lightly. He smiles and closes his eyes briefly. His hands move to grasp your hips, thumbs rubbing the line where your hips meet thighs. He scoots closer to the edge of the bed, so his face is in front of your abdomen.

He presses a kiss to your navel.

“beautiful.”

Your fingers lightly scratch his collarbone as you stroke his body in return.

But then you hold on for dear life, because Sans wraps one arm around your back and the other around the tops of your thighs, spinning you and placing you on your back on the bed.

You yelp and let out a loud laugh as your body hits the mattress. Until you find Sans has crawled on top of you, his body hovering over yours. You’re still smiling, but now you’re biting your lip, because all of this is just so exhilarating.

He leans down and kisses you hard, opening his mouth and taking your lip from your teeth, biting it himself. Your tongue lashes out, sliding against his teeth and along the tips of his canines. He groans at that.

He gently lowers his body onto yours, one arm sliding underneath you coming to cradle the back of your head, while the other rubs down the length of your body. He starts at your chest, brushing your breast, and makes his way lower to your hip and thigh. His hand circles around to your bottom, squeezing.

You gasp and hitch up your leg on his hip bone. His breath catches as he rubs his hand along the whole of your thigh.

He pulls away, releasing your lips.

His voice is low when he talks.

“i don’t know much about human anatomy, but i wanna know yours. show me what to do.”

Now’s not the time to be nervous anymore, ___. It’s kinda like science. Right?

You breathe out, “Ok.”

You lay down your leg to the side as you grab his hand and trail it along the inside of your thigh.

You lay your cheek against the side of his face still breathing heavy and tell him the parts of you.

“Thigh. Sensitive.”

You then lay his hand on top of your center. You pant out a laugh. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

“Vagina. _Very_ sensitive. This is where the magic happens. Go crazy. Experiment, you scientist.” You set your head back on the pillow and close your eyes, overwhelmed, placing your arm up above your head.

Sans chuckles and moves his head to kiss your neck and jaw. His hand starts to move against you, teasing apart your lower lips, sliding his fingers in.

He hums in interest. “you’re wet.”

You laugh as your body responds to his hand. “Mmm, that’s what happens when I’m aroused. Makes it easier for things to happen.”

He hums again and licks your throat as he continues to explore. Eventually his fingers pass over your clit and you gasp sharply, the ache in you twisting. He looks up at you quickly. It didn’t sound like it hurt, but he wants to make sure.

“i didn’t hurt you did i? i can stop.”

You practically yell.

“NO. God, _please_ don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

He eagerly bends down to kiss you as his finger rubs that spot again and you moan against his mouth. Your hips are moving and you’re so close. God, so close.

“ _Yes_ , Sans…”

You hear him growl again and his fingers press harder.

And that does it.

The wave crashes and you’re trembling and pressing up to Sans as your orgasm spreads heat throughout your body. Sans feels you shake and come apart underneath him and he’s so fascinated and turned on by you.

You’re left gasping for air, utterly spent for the time being. Your eyes are closed and your mouth open. Sans looks at you in the aftermath, and you look incredible. Flushed skin, messy hair, swollen lips just asking to be kissed.

So he does.

You return his soft kiss and sigh.

“That was wonderful.”

“you’re wonderful.”

You laugh. “We’re wonderful.”

He laughs with you and continues to kiss you, deciding to explore some more. His hand moves lower, gliding across your entrance. He pauses.

You’re quick to come back, excitement rising in you once again. You don’t know how or why, but Sans is able to turn you on so easily.

You kiss him hard again. “Go on.”

He exhales as his fingers enter you. You’re tight, but he stretches you, stroking your muscles. You feel an orgasm building and you whine in need. He moves faster and strokes that spot in you.

You let go.

You can’t think anymore.

You gasp, “Right there, Sans….”

Sans kisses you fiercely and obeys, pleasuring you. Once again, you’re reeling, orgasm exploding deep inside you. Sans _feels_ you this time. Really feels you. Your muscles clench down on his fingers and pulse with the waves that spread through you.

You’re winded, an utter mess. Sans pulls back and smiles down at you with an expression mixed with tenderness, excitement, and wonder. You bring up your hand and hold his face.

“Sans…. Thank you. That was….” You shake your head tiredly.

He chuckles and removes his fingers bringing them up to his face, inspecting them. His eyes flick to yours and hold your gaze as his tongue materializes.

No way.

Your eyes widen as he licks the bones of his fingers, never taking his eyes off of you.

A spear of heat shoots through your core. You exhale harshly as your eyebrows raise. He leans down to you and kisses you passionately. Your arm wraps around his back, grasping his spine.

He opens his eyes and they look into yours. Your loving smile turns wicked as desire sets your expression.

“Your turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here it is. Finally right? 
> 
> Pretty nervous about this one. Never written smut before so...hope it turned out ok. Be gentle. It was fun though. At some point, it's just like...FUCK IT, here it is. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for the continuing support <3
> 
> BTW, I did have an idea that if you don't want to see the smut, you can always request little one-shots from me in the meantime on my TUMBLR! We can try it out, see how it goes; could be fun!
> 
> TUMBLRRRR: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	14. Return*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the smut is done halfway through, but there's still a little so just be awareeeeee

Sans’ eye-sockets widen, flashing. His grin lifts and he sits up, hands grasping the top of his shorts.

You push yourself up too, leaning on your left elbow as you watch him.

He slowly pushes them down and over his hipbones. He leans back down over you, arms on either side of your body. Sans kicks the shorts off as he kisses you.

You push against him and turn him over so he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Sans’ hands rest heavy on your waist. Your hand comes to rest on his ribs.

“So I know next to nothing about what you like or how you…work. Teach me, Dr. Sans.”

He gives a low laugh and his hands move idly back and forth over your stomach and thighs.

“well, my bones are sensitive, just like your skin. it’s mainly ‘cause of my magic. so when you stimulate me, you’re actually stimulating my magic, and vice versa. make sense so far?”

You nod, focused, rubbing his ribs. His fingers tighten.

“now, i can manifest my magic outside of my body.”

“Like your tongue.”

“exactly. and that’s another way to stimulate me.”

“And you can create whatever you want with your magic?”

He winks at you. “pretty much.”

“Before I go on, what parts of your body are most sensitive?”

His hands stroke your thighs harder. “ribs, spine, pelvis.”

You immediately drag your hand over each area. Sans groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Your hand slows down so he can catch his breath.

“yeah…like that.”

You laugh and shift, becoming a bit shy. “Well, you said you can create stuff with your magic…. How familiar are you with human anatomy?”

He laughs a bit breathlessly. “some. did a little research. think i know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

You run your hand through your hair, feeling a little flustered.

“Well you don’t have to do anything, but if, in the future, you wanted to try something, that’d be cool…. But only if you want to. I’m more than happy to _stimulate_ you in other ways.”

He smiles softly and sits up. He takes your hand from your head and holds it, kissing the back of it.

“i’m happy to try anything, as long as it’s with you.”

You smile back and lean forward to kiss him. You take your hand back and place it on his chest, pushing him back down.

“Now, relax and enjoy. Tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.”

You hear him mumble softly, “doubt that.”

You chuckle and focus your attention on his ribs first. Your fingers trail along the surfaces, on top and around. You place your arm beside Sans and lean down over his chest. You slowly lick a line up his sternum and kiss back down, eliciting a moan from Sans.

If you had your way, you would hear him moan all day.

You smile deviously and move briefly up by his head.

You whisper, “I wanna hear _you_ make that noise again.”

He pants out a short laugh. “ _sounds_ like ya know what you’re doin’.”

You brush your lips across his mouth, humming in agreement. You kiss back down his chest, licking and nipping at his ribs. Sans’ breaths are becoming heavier.

You sit up again and gently grasp his spine. His back arches and his eye sparks. His hands shoot up and grab your hips. Seeing him so rattled drives you crazy. You love it.

Your hand tightens around his spine, moving up and down slowly, teasing him.

“___....”

An idea crosses your mind. You wonder if he’ll enjoy it; it’s _almost_ the same.

Fuck it, let’s try it.

You move down his legs and bend over so your face is right over his pelvis. Sans sits up briefly, curious as to what you’re doing.

Until your tongue licks the side of his hip bone.

He knows what you’re up to now.

No longer curious; he’s delighted, amazed, and absolutely wrecked.

He lays back down, hand moving to rest on your head as you continue to kiss and bite his pelvis. At this point, his eye is blazing, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last. When you travel to the inside and center of his pelvis, that’s when he unravels.

His bones rattle and his magic surges as he climaxes. You hear him let out a long moan and his fingers grip your hair. It leaves him winded, his moan petering out into a shuddering gasp. You smile, completely satisfied, and crawl back up to rest beside him.

His eye has gone out and his white eye-lights are back, sockets lidded. He turns his head to you and sees you with a smug grin on your face. He flashes you a tired smile and turns to hug you close. You kiss him passionately and he returns it. His arm rubs your back languidly.

“that was…incredible.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I loved doing it.”

You kiss again and hold each other close for a long while. His hand eventually comes up to your cheek and lifts your face to his. He strokes your cheek and lips with his thumb. He drinks you in, but his eyes look troubled and you start to worry.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes soften somewhat. “nothing. just hard to believe you’re real sometimes.”

You press against him, eyes lighting up.

“Well, you better believe it. I’m not going anywhere, Sans. As long as you’ll have me.”

“i’m lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to have _you_.  _I_ probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You and Papyrus.” You frown and look down.

He touches his forehead to yours, urging you to look back up. He kisses you softly. You sigh.

“i think i remember someone saying not to dwell on the bad stuff in the past. be here. in the present. with me.”

You smile broadly against his mouth. Your soul thrums with happiness and possibilities.

“They sound pretty smart.”

He chuckles and kisses you again.

“eh, they’re alright.”

You laugh loudly and lean up to lick the side of his face in retaliation. Shocked, he laughs with you, rolling over on top of you to pin you down as he tickles your sides relentlessly.

Your giggles mount into full-blown squeals, devolving quickly into wheezes as you squirm and try to catch your breath. Sans is still laughing deeply and he moves his head to kiss your neck, hands finally stilling.

You gasp for breath, half-laughs escaping your lips as you enjoy Sans’ attention.

He moves back up to your lips and rolls back on his side, arm draping over your back. You scoot closer to Sans and try to fight back a yawn, which is quickly mirrored by Sans.

You laugh quietly. “Guess we’re both worn out.”

He chuckles and reaches for the covers, pulling them over both your bodies. He finally rests his cheekbone on your head.

“bone-tired.”

Your body bounces as you laugh and you kiss his collarbone, closing your eyes.

“Night, Sans.”

“night, ___.”

\------------

You wake up early. The sun has just cleared the horizon, bathing Sans’ room in soft morning light. You take your body into account and smile when you find it tangled together with Sans. He’s on his back and you’re tucked into his side, leg thrown over his. His left arm is hanging off the side of the bed, right curled around your back.

You shift closer and place a small peck on one of his ribs. He makes a low noise in the back of this throat and his hand splays along your back, but otherwise he remains asleep.

You smile and decide to turn over onto your other side, before going back to sleep. You move, but as soon as you’re settled, Sans turns onto his side as well, throwing his other arm over your body. He grumbles as he shifts. He pulls you in close against his body, legs intertwining.

You smile and close your eyes.

They’re only closed for a little while before they open wide.

Sans’ hand is moving.

All over.

You hum as a heat builds up inside.

His hand traces lazy lines across your stomach, up to your side and then down your thigh, repeating the process slowly. His breath is hot and heavy on your neck. Finally, his hand curls under you and scoots you flush against his body.

He whispers low in your ear, voice gravelly and thick from sleep.

“mornin’.”

You smile again and your fingers trail up and down his arm.

“Morning.”

He breathes deeply, taking in the smell of you and your hair.

“sleep ok?”

You hum a yes and arch your back against him in a small stretch. He groans low in his chest and runs his hand along your body, feeling your muscles.

You give a deep exhale, “Did you?”

In between placing small kisses on your head, he answers, “yeah.”

“Good.”

His hand continues to stroke your body, coming up to rest on your chest. You groan softly and press against Sans’ ribs.

He chuckles low in your ear and starts to tease you, fingers gliding lightly across your breasts. You huff a small laugh, totally aware of what Sans is doing. After a little while, Sans is still teasing you. You groan your slight frustration.

Sans laughs again, “i’m waitin’ for you.”

You groan again. “To do what?”

He moves his head against your neck and rumbles, “to say my name.”

Your arousal heightens and you inhale shakily. You smile faintly from all of the feelings spreading through your body.

Your voice is hoarse and thick from lust as you breathe out, “Sans….”

Sans groans and his hand grabs your breast firmly, tweaking your nipple. You hear his eye snap to life and feel his tongue lap over your neck. You let out a moan. He moves his hand to your other breast, giving it the same treatment before he brings his hand down in between your thighs.

As he slips his fingers in, you gasp, rocking your body against his. He continues to lick and bite your neck as he pleasures you. It doesn’t take long before you climax, body shaking, sweating, moaning against Sans.

You’re left panting as he moves his hand up your body again. He rolls you over on your back to face him. He looks completely satisfied, eyes alight with excitement and fondness. You smile, relaxed and he leans down to kiss you; at first softly, then growing in passion.

When he breaks away, you’re both out of breath, smiling. His eyes move down your face to your body, but they catch something that causes him to inhale sharply, guilt and worry settling in his soul. His hand shoots up to your shoulder, lightly touching the bruise that’s beginning to form.

Did he do that? Did he hurt you? How could he let himself get that carried away?

He starts to drown in questions and misgivings….

Until you say something.

His noise had startled you a little and you looked at his face, bones creased in concern.

“Hey. Sans? What’s wrong?”

“i hurt you.”

You look down at your shoulder the best you can and see part of the bruise from his bite yesterday. You smile and laugh a little, placing your hand on his face. He looks up at you, apprehension growing, with a look on his face like you’ve gone mad.

“this isn’t funny.”

You stroke his face. “It’s a little funny. Listen to me. I’m really alright. I swear. You didn’t hurt me.”

His brow smoothes out only a little as he looks back down to your shoulder.

You grab his chin, making him meet your eyes. You’re serious now.

“Look at me. I’m ok. Human skin can be delicate, so it happens sometimes. That doesn’t mean it hurt, or that I didn’t fucking love when you did it, ok?”

His face softens even more. “you sure?”

“Would I lie? You know I’d tell you if something hurt, right?”

He exhales and nods against your hand. He leans down again to kiss you on your lips before moving down and kissing your shoulder gently. You sigh and rub your hand along his skull.

“you loved it though?” he asks against your shoulder.

You laugh, softly scratching his skull. “Fuck yeah. It was amazing.”

He chuckles and moves back up to kiss you again. He pulls back.

“want coffee?”

Your eyes light up. “Yes, please. Do you mind if I take a quick shower though?”

“not at all. towels are under the sink.”

“Sweet, thanks.”

You roll out of bed, stretching. Sans gets up and pulls his shorts on, watching you. If only you could walk around naked all the time. As he looks at you, he thinks again of how lucky he is. He walks around the bed, coming up in front of you. His arms come up and fold you into a close hug as he kisses you with abandon.

You’re a little surprised, but immediately give over to Sans and the kiss. He feels so good on your body and you lace your arm around his shoulder, squeezing him to you tightly.

Eventually you both pull away panting and smiling again.

“coffee.”

“Shower.”

You both laugh and head to your destinations.

You turn the hot water on and take care of your cast before stepping in. Your body is sore in all the best ways and the hot water soothes your long-unused muscles. As you quickly wash yourself, you think about Sans and last night. Your body tingles, excited and content. You haven’t felt this way in a long time. You’re not a virgin, in any sense of that stupid word. But Sans makes you feel…new. Like something precious and worth discovering. And worth cherishing once found.

You smile and let the water wash over your face.

Sans is waiting for the coffee to brew. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the counter. He thinks about you and last night. His soul is warm and a distinct feeling of contentment floods his bones, making him sigh. After everything that’s happened in his life, he didn’t think anything could really make him feel more than just neutral acceptance and random spurts of happiness. But you’ve changed all of that. He was serious. He’s lucky that he gets to know you and see you and feel you. And he’s thrilled that you feel the same way about him; he gets the feeling just from your soul, not to mention your actions. You make him feel worthy of happiness. That he’s _allowed_ to be happy after everything. That the universe hasn’t been against him this whole time.

He agrees with Papyrus wholeheartedly. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

You step out of the shower and grab the towel to dry yourself off. You hang it up and grab your sweatpants and shirt, tugging them on one-handed. You catch the delicious smell of coffee and step out of the room, walking quietly to the kitchen where you see Sans pouring the brew into a couple of mugs. You come up behind him and slide your arm around his front, pressing yourself up against his bare back. You place kisses along his vertebrae.

He hums and runs his hand along your arm.

“hey there. how was the shower?”

“Great,” you say in between your kisses. “You should join me next time.”

He chuckles and brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“it’s a date.”

You let him go and come up to lean against the counter. Sans hands you your coffee.

“Thanks.” You flash him a smile and blow across the top of it.

“So when are we heading to help move your friends?”

“tomorrow. that sound good?”

“Yeah. Where do they live?”

“the next city over, to the west.”

Recognition shoots through you. That’s the town where you had your conference before your accident.

Sans sees you quiet down and stare hard at your coffee.

“why? something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine. Just was coming back from there when I crashed.”

Sans’ eyes widen. No wonder you seemed to know it. He’s sure that they’re going to pass the place where it happened.

“you ok? i can drive us if you need.”

You look over and give him a smile, shaking your head slightly.

“Nah, I should be ok. Don’t worry.”

He nods and raises his hand to brush against your cheek.

“ok. but just know that it’s ok if you’re not. i’ll be there for ya.”

You smile at him again, leaning in to brush a kiss across his mouth. You hold your coffee with your right hand and grab his hand with your left and you both walk into the living room to sit on the couch.

“So tell me about your friends that we’re helping.”

“well ya probably heard of at least one of ‘em. asgore ring a bell?”

You lean back against the cushions, thinking. “I feel like I’ve seen him on the news. He’s the king?”

Sans nods. “yep. toriel's the former queen. they’re separated now. then there’s frisk. tori adopted ‘em.”

“They’re the one that broke the barrier right?”

“mhmm. they’re a special kid alright.” Sans takes a sip of his coffee, staring out the window.

Something about the way he said that catches your attention. Like there’s a history there. You raise your eyebrows, wondering if you should ask. You frown and temper your curiosity, even though the urge is strong. If he wanted to talk about it, he would tell you. You decide to let it be for now. He’s an adult, he can tell you on his own time, when he’s comfortable.

You drain the rest of your mug and nod at him. “Cool. I’m excited to meet them.”

He gives you a faint smile. He wonders why you haven’t asked about Frisk. It’s not like he was necessarily trying hard at disguising his feelings. But he is grateful you didn’t ask. He can tell you noticed and want to know though; you’re incredibly smart and attentive. But he doesn’t want to lie to you, saying everything is fine because he doesn’t want to talk about it yet. He does mean to tell you about it. He feels like you should know. At some point anyway. But not yet. You’re just beginning to get close and the last thing he wants is to freak you out.

He finishes his coffee and stands up taking your mug and his in one hand. He bends down in front of you, laying his hand on the back of your head. He places a kiss on your forehead.

“thanks.”

You know what he’s talking about immediately.

“If you want to at all, you’ll tell me when you’re ready. No pressure, ok?”

His hand strokes your hair as he straightens up. He grins at you before heading to the kitchen to put away your mugs. You slouch down on the couch and lay your arms over your torso, closing your eyes and enjoying the morning. Sans walks back in and sits next to you on your left. His hand reaches for yours and his fingers lightly stroke the length of your arm.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Did Papyrus say when he’d be back?”

“in the next couple hours.”

You smile deviously and sit up, twisting and throwing your leg over Sans so you’re straddling him. His eye-sockets widen and his hands immediately come up to grab your hips.

“More than enough time to take care of you.”

His grin grows and his hands run up under your shirt. But then you do something that catches him off guard. You remove his hands and place them by his sides.

You lean in close and whisper, “You can see. But you can’t touch. Not until I say so.”

He growls low in his chest and his eye flashes blue. You smile and rock your hips.

“you’re killin’ me here, kid.”

Your hand grips onto his ribs. “Good things come to those who wait.”

You bend over and start rubbing and licking his ribs and sternum. Your hand moves down to the base of his spine and you hear Sans groan and feel him writhe under you. His hands move to grab you but he stops himself, instead gripping the cushions above his head.

You continue to fondle him, moving back and forth between his spine and pelvis. Sans starts to breathe heavily, his groans turning into moans. You know he’s close. His hands clench the fabric.

“please…. let me touch you….”

You lean and place your cheek on the side of his face.

“No.”

The feeling of your skin on him almost sends him into a frenzy. He moves his head instantly to your neck, licking it slightly before you pull back quickly.

“Uh-uh. I think I need to punish you a little for that.” You remove your hand and he immediately growls his frustration. You bite your lip and lift up your shirt, revealing your lower torso. His eye is aflame as he stares hard at you, lust and desire barely contained.

You begin to sway your hips in a figure-eight, the heat of the situation causing you to be more out-going. You glide your hand along your stomach and up your chest, teasing him, throwing your head back.

He rumbles.

You look back at him, eyes lidded in arousal and you smile.

“You ready to be good now?”

He grinds out, “yes…for now.”

You chuckle and place your hand back on his spine and pelvis, fingers rubbing and dancing along his bones. His body immediately responds and his eyes close in pleasure.

After several more rough strokes and a well-placed thrust of your hips, you feel him shake and his bones rattle as he arches his back. He gives a ragged cry and a shudder wracks his body.

You bend to him again and kiss his mouth. You say, “Now you can touch me.”

His arms instantly come down and crush you to his chest. He kisses you back hard, hands gliding under your shirt, up and down your body.

He growls against your mouth, “you tease. i’m gonna get ya back.”

You give a breathless laugh and say, “Don’t tell me you didn’t love it.”

His hands rub down your sides, brushing against your breasts as he groans.

“i guess. you _were_ incredibly sexy.”

His eyes look into yours for a moment, intense and playful at the same time.

“ya should dance for me again sometime.”

You blush and bite your lip, giving a weak laugh.

“I could try.”

He kisses you again, fiercely. Once you separate, you hug him and lean against his chest, still straddling him. Sans wraps his arms around you, holding you securely to him. He leans his head back against the couch, relaxed.

Eventually you move your leg over so you’re sitting in Sans’ lap, arm still around his neck, head nestled against his shoulder. Sans reaches for the remote and turns the TV on as you both wait for Papyrus’ arrival.

Sans’ hand lays on your back underneath your shirt, rubbing lazy circles into your skin. You haven’t moved for a while, so he looks down and sees that you’re napping. He smiles and kisses your head, when movement outside the window catches his eye.

Papyrus is home.

Running up to the house.

Shit, Sans thinks.

Papyrus opens the door and skids in, taking a big inhale, about to yell when he catches sight of you and Sans on the couch. Sans is frantically motioning to Papyrus to be quiet.

Papyrus looks between the two of you and points vigorously, questioning. Sans nods and, slightly blushing, gives Papyrus a thumbs up. Papyrus puts both hands on his skull and mouths OH MY GOODNESS to Sans. Sans grins broadly, laughing quietly. Papyrus spins in a circle and jumps, fist in the air.

Sans claps a hand to his face, groaning.

When Papyrus lands, it’s with a loud thud and you’re startled awake, yelling, “WHAT?”

You blink rapidly, exhaling to calm your heart rate. You see Sans, head back, hand over his face and Papyrus in the hallway, looking equal amounts of excited and abashed.

You laugh at the situation, wave, and groggily say, “Hey Papyrus, welcome back.”

“I’m sorry I woke you, human, BUT I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU TWO.”

You smile at Papyrus as Sans chuckles and rubs your back.

“No worries. I’m happy too.”

You yawn and get up off Sans’ lap. Papyrus strides over and picks you up in a great hug. You laugh and hug him back. When he finally sets you down, you stretch and turn to them both.

“I should probably get going. I’ve gotta get some stuff together before we leave tomorrow. You guys probably have to take care of some stuff too. How long you think we’ll be there?”

Sans nods and Papyrus responds, “A couple of days I should think.”

You grin and nod in acknowledgement. “And what time should I be here by tomorrow?”

“If it is alright with you, we would like to leave fairly early. Around eight in the morning.”

“Sounds great.”

Papyrus claps and heads to his room to get things together for the trip. You head to Sans’ room. You slip on your shoes and start grabbing your clothes. Sans comes in with your bag and your jacket. You smile at him and shove your clothes inside as he holds it.

You take it and throw it on his bed for a moment. He helps you shrug into your jacket, hands lingering and brushing along your skin. His eyes rove your body and face, staring at you intensely before he steps back.

“Thanks.”

He hums as you shoulder your bag. He quickly puts on a shirt and his slippers. He takes your hand and you both walk out of his room to the front door.

You yell over your shoulder, “See ya tomorrow, Papyrus!”

He yells back, “GOODBYE HUMAN!”

You smile and you and Sans step outside and make your way to your truck. He walks you to your door, opening it for you.

You throw your bag inside and turn to Sans, throwing your arm around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He brings up his arms and wraps you up. He nestles his face against your neck, kissing lightly. You do the same to his.

He pulls back and faces you, mouth pressed against your lips in an affectionate kiss. You finally separate after a long moment and you smile at him.

“See ya tomorrow morning, bright and early. Don’t be a lazybones.” You wink at him.

He chuckles, “see ya then, lefty.”

You turn away and get into your truck, turning it on. You wave at him as he steps back. You pull out and head home.

Sans walks back inside, hands in his pockets.

You miss each other already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here's the rest. Hope you've enjoyed the HOT STUFF goin' on. There'll be more in the future. 
> 
> Thank you for all of the great feedback! It's helped me get more comfortable writing both smut and non-smut. Y'all are wonderful and keep bein' swell, my BBs. 
> 
> BUMTLR: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	15. Divulge

You wake up early the next morning excited for the day ahead. You wonder what these new people are going to be like. Especially the king and former queen. They seem so enigmatic; names spoken with weight that could mean a hundred different things.

Plus you’ll get to spend some time with Sans while you drive, and that's _always_ fun.

You roll out of bed and take a quick shower, washing your hair. Once you’re done, you start packing changes of clothes into a bag for the next couple of days. You grab your athletic clothes and tennis shoes for the actual move. As much as you want to, you’ve learned the hard way that you shouldn’t move with flip flops. You also rummage in your closet for some elastic cables and a couple of sleeping bags as well as pillows, since you’re not sure where you’re going to be sleeping. You get dressed into your jeans and a nice button down flannel, tugging on your boots and slipping your phone into your pocket. You throw the sleeping bags over the railing and shoulder your bag as you head down the stairs. You pull out your phone and check the time. Perfect.

You text Sans:

**_\- Morning. Gonna get gas and then head over, alright?_ **

_\- sounds good. see ya soon._

You make sure you have everything and step outside, locking the door behind you. You start up the truck and head to get gas. It doesn’t take very long and you check the clock again as you head to the brothers’ house. Right on time.

You pull up and see that Undyne and Alphys are already there. As you walk to the door your excitement grows a little more. You knock and the door opens. You’re greeted by a grinning Sans, whose eyes are alight as he looks you over. You tingle and your heart warms.

“Hi.”

“hey.”

You walk inside and Sans closes the door. You step forward and give Sans a big hug, gripping the fabric of his hoodie. He chuckles and breathes you in, embracing you. He pulls back and kisses you, hands rubbing your back. You sigh against his mouth. You didn’t realize how much you had missed him until this moment; that unique crisp smell and the thrumming warmth of his bones. You feel your soul pulse again. He feels it too and his arms tighten. You finally step back, smiling. You both walk into the living room where everyone else is as Sans heads into the kitchen.

“Morning guys.”

Everyone turns to you and waves, smiling. Papyrus jumps up and comes to give you a hug.

“Good morning human!”

“Hey punk!”

“H-hi!”

You laugh and hug Papyrus back.

“Y’all ready to hit the road?”

Undyne flexes and cracks her knuckles, yelling, “Yeah!”

Papyrus and Alphys nod. Sans walks out of the kitchen with a travel mug. He hands it to you with a wink.

“for brew.”

You laugh and Papyrus and Undyne groan. Alphys snickers behind her hand. You take the mug and smile gratefully.

“I can’t espresso my thanks enough.”

Sans laughs and Papyrus yells, “LET’S GO BEFORE IT GETS WORSE.” He ushers Undyne and Alphys out of the house. Sans grabs a backpack by the couch. As he walks by you, he whispers low into your ear.

“i can think of a few ways ya can say thank you.”

You give a shocked laugh and follow him outside. Well if you weren't awake before, you sure as hell are now.

You fall into step beside Sans as you make your way to the truck. You’re still laughing slightly as you speak quietly.

“You can’t just say that before a 5-hour drive.”

He winks with a devilish smirk on his face.

“i dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

You shove him and he laughs as he puts his things into your truck.

Papyrus yells to you both, “We shall see you both there! Sans, you know the way correct?”

He gives Papyrus a thumbs up. “got it, bro.”

“DRIVE SAFELY!”

“You too!”

You all get into your respective vehicles and pull out from the house. Sans settles into the seat and you put on some music as you get on the highway.

“sleep ok last night?”

“Yeah,” you smile and glance at him out of the corner of your eye, “but I like sleepin’ next to you more.”

He chuckles and slides down in his seat, blushing a little.

“heh. yeah, me too.” His shyness makes you laugh in return.

When you calm down, you think about the upcoming meeting. You want to be prepared so you decide to ask, “So are there any sensitive topics I should avoid when I meet Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk? Asgore and Toriel obviously have a history.”

“yeah, that’s one.”

“Why did they separate if you don’t mind me asking?”

A sad expression crosses Sans face before he answers. “their kid died. humans.”

Your eyes widen and a mournful feeling spreads through your heart.

“asgore retaliated; tori didn’t.”

“What did he do?”

He turns his head and looks at you seriously. “do ya really wanna know?”

You spare him a somber glance. “I’d like to know who I’m meeting.”

He nods and gives a small sigh. “well we were stuck behind the barrier. needed human souls to break it. sometimes kids fell down into the underground. asgore and undyne found ‘em.”

“Undyne?”

He nods. “she was part of the royal guard.”

You’re silent, thinking through the information. Sans doesn’t have to say it. You’re smart enough to catch on. Asgore killed children. Undyne may have as well. You purse your lips as you think, brow furrowed.

Sans watches you as you take it in. He finds himself a bit anxious, wondering how you feel about it.

You speak up.

“He must have been hurting.”

Sans raises his brows. You continue.

“I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my child was killed by the ones who trapped me. Asgore is a king. It can’t be an easy job.”

You look over at Sans, serious and melancholy.

“While I don’t condone child murder, it’s not my place to judge them. I don’t know the whole story and they must have had their reasons. Undyne is wonderful and if you all respect Asgore as much as I think you do, he must be trying hard to redeem himself. That has to count for something.”

Sans is surprised. He wasn’t entirely sure what you’d think to be honest. But it wasn’t exactly this. He’s impressed. He’s also a bit relieved. He’s silent for several moments, dragged down into the abyss of his own thoughts and memories.

Blood.

Bones.

Knives….

He shakes his head and gives you a faint smile. “ya have a good soul.”

You shrug.

“not everyone would be so forgiving. a lotta people aren’t.”

“I just hope someone would give _me_ the benefit of the doubt first, ya know? ‘War makes men mad’ and all.”

Sans nods and he raises his arm to you, sliding his hand through your hair. You hum and smile at him briefly before turning your attention back to the road. You two are quiet, listening to the hum of the road and the music.

After a while, you look ahead and see that the surroundings are starting to look a little familiar.

You suck in a breath.

You slow down marginally as you spot it. Sans’ hand stills on your neck. Your knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

Black tracks smear across the opposite side of the highway.

Furrows of old disturbed grass and thrown up dirt.

Snapped saplings.

As you pass by you see the tree that your truck shared such a brief and intimate encounter with.

A relationship that almost destroyed you.

Fucking deer.

Sans feels you tense up and turn your head to look at the other side of the road. He quickly looks too, but shifts his focus to you. Your jaw is set as you glance at the remnants of your crash. Your hand is gripping the steering wheel. You eventually turn your head back to your lane, staring hard at the road ahead.

Sans’ hand starts to massage the back of your neck.

“ya ok?”

You take a moment before responding. You take a deep breath, in and out. You turn your head to him, soft smile on your lips.

“Yeah. Looks like things are growing back.”

He grins. “yeah.”

In the ensuing quiet, you finally listen to the music playing. That piano; those peppy trumpets; YES, you fucking love this song.

A wide grin splits your face as you say to Sans, turning the radio up, “Get ready!”

He takes his arm back, surprised. “what?”

Your body bobs up and down to the beat, swaying in your seat. You start singing.

“Keep drinkin’ coffee, stare me down across the table, while I look outside.

So many things I’d say if only I were able, but I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by.”

The rhythm sets in your muscles and bones and you’re belting the lyrics, dramatizing and pointing in time. Sans starts laughing, completely taken aback.

Suddenly you place your hand on your face, gliding your finger down your cheekbone, under your jaw, down your neck, and shooting him a finger gun as you sassily sing to him. Sans’ eyes are as wide as the grin on his face.

“I hate to break it to you babe, but I’m not drowning.

There’s no one here to save.”

Your shoulders shimmy and you waggle your eyebrows at Sans as you continue to sing out the rest of the song. You laugh when you’re done and Sans claps lazily, smiling.

“you’re a natural.”

Your laughs build, quickly becoming wheezes.

“What can I say, singing is my forte.”

He laughs with you and you both quickly devolve into wonderfully terrible music puns.

Once your laughs die down, you catch Sans yawning and slipping down in his hoodie. You nudge him.

“Hey, there’s a pillow in the back if you wanna nap. I can wake you up when we enter the city.”

He yawns again, giving no argument. He reaches in the back and pulls out the pillow. He puts it against the window, leaning on it and promptly falling asleep. You smile and turn your attention back to the road.

A few hours later, you pull off the highway into the city where Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk live. You nudge Sans with your cast.

He sits up and blinks blearily.

“We’re here.”

He looks around and nods. Papyrus’ car is a bit ahead of you, so you’re able to follow him somewhat, but Sans has to give you some direction. You eventually pull into a fairly nice subdivision and up to a large house.

Everyone steps out of their vehicles and as soon as you step onto the lawn, the front door swings open and out runs a small child, no older than seven or eight you think. That must be Frisk. The kid sprints to Papyrus, who runs and catches them, picking them up and spinning them around.

“TINY HUMAN!”

You laugh as you watch them, hand in your pocket and standing next to Sans. Papyrus sets them down and they run to Undyne next, dangling from her flexing arm.

“What’s up short-stuff? Ya ready for some fun?”

They giggle and smile, nodding as they drop down. They run and give Alphys a hug and then they run over to Sans, hugging him around his middle. Sans chuckles and ruffles the kid’s messy mop of hair. Frisk lets go, a huge smile on their face.

They turn to you. They’re still smiling but looking at you with a curious gaze. You squat down to their height.

“You’re Frisk right? Nice to meet you, I’m ___.”

They smile wider and run and give you a hug as well, wrapping their arms around your neck. You give a shocked laugh and hug them back.

“I’m glad you like hugs because I like ‘em too.”

You let them go, standing up. You glance at Sans, smiling. He returns it. He had been watching the interaction with interest, seeing how Frisk would react to you. They’re a pretty good judge of character, humans and monsters alike. He’s happy that it seems you two will get along. Though it might make it harder in the future to tell you about everything. He sighs. He’ll cross that bridge when it comes.

During the time Frisk had been meeting you, two more figures had stepped out of the house. You look up to see two tall, what you guess to be, goat monsters. They must be Toriel and Asgore.

Toriel is tall and elegant, with a compassionate face, eyes soft and welcoming. It’s obvious in the way she carries herself that she was a queen. She moves to you and envelopes you in a warm hug.

“Welcome, ___. I am Toriel. Thank you so much for coming to help us. Papyrus has told us much about you. All wonderful things.” She laughs.

You chuckle and hug her back, feeling more at ease. “Well, thank you so much for the warm welcome. I’m happy to help.”

She lets you go and you pull back, turning now to an even taller and broader figure.

Asgore.

He’s intimidating in his stature and bearing. There is no doubt he’s a king. His horns are large and sharp, adding extra height to his already impressive size. But when you look at his face, it’s soft. Calm, collected. His smile is glad, but you think you see a deep sadness behind his eyes at times. You’re not sure; if it is, it’s well hidden. It’s entirely possible that you’re seeing things, considering what you know of him.

You extend your left hand and give him a smile.

“Hi! I’m ___. It’s really an honor meeting you.”

He smiles. When he talks, you are even more impressed by his voice. It’s low, rumbling but clear, like it could carry for miles. He takes your hand and shakes it firmly. Even though his large paw dwarfs yours, you return it as best you can.

“Howdy! It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem at all. I do have a question though. Should I call you King Asgore?”

He laughs at that, deep and booming. He squeezes your hand.

“Please, just Asgore.”

You smile and nod, giving his hand one last shake before letting go. Frisk grabs Toriel’s hand and drags her back inside, laughing. Everyone else follows. Sans falls in step next to you, hands tucked into his pockets as he flashes you a quick smile.

You lean toward him, whispering quietly, “I can see why you respect him. Both of them.”

He nods. “they’ve been through a lot. they deserve it.”

You both walk into the house. You look around, in slight awe at the size. It makes sense though. Asgore is huge; if he were in any other house his horns would make some impromptu renovations. You wonder a little at the living arrangements. You guess they sleep in separate rooms. But it actually makes you happy that they can be in close quarters without animosity. It shows a lot about them that they are at least trying to mend their relationship, even if it’s not the same as it was before. Being resentful and angry is exhausting and holding that for too long can make you sick.

Not only that, but you think about how much safer it is for them to be together than apart. At least they can look out for each other this way. Asgore isn’t some random monster. He’s the face of his race. Or really the only face recognized by the government. He’s not easy to miss. Dissenters are sure not to miss him either.

You look around some more. There are boxes stacked along the walls, but the furniture in the living room is still there, so you all settle in. Papyrus is on the floor, Frisk in his lap. Undyne and Alphys are on a loveseat, Toriel takes an armchair, and you and Sans take two seats on the couch.

Asgore speaks up, “Would everyone like some tea?”

Everyone nods enthusiastically, including yourself. Undyne jumps up.

“I’ll help!”

Asgore smiles and nods, following her into the kitchen.

Toriel turns to you. “Papyrus told us you were in an accident. I am so glad to see that you are alright. Are you still in pain?”

You give her a smile. “Thank you. It doesn’t hurt much at all anymore. I’m definitely on the mend. But it could have been much worse if it weren’t for Sans and Papyrus. I owe them so much, if not my life basically.” You glance at Sans and Papyrus seriously.

She looks at the brothers in surprise. Papyrus nods and Sans shrugs.

“Yes, I am glad we were there!”

“it was nothin’.”

You roll your eyes and shove him lightly, laughing. “They did though. They’re just too humble.”

She chuckles and her kind eyes look towards your head and stitches.

“May I take a look?”

You’re surprised, but you nod. She rises and walks over to you, gently taking your head and tilting it towards her as she inspects your healing gash. She smells sweet and clean and her furry paws are soft.

“If I were to offer you something to help, would you accept it?”

You look up at her, slight confusion on your face.

“Um, sure. I mean, you really don’t have to though.”

She smiles softly down at you. “I would love to help you, child. I do not think it will help your arm, but it will help your other injury.”

You return her smile, genuinely curious now. “Ok then.”

She walks into the kitchen and you look over at Sans, who has a knowing smile on his face.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

His hand brushes yours. “you’ll see.”

You raise your eyebrow and turn when she comes back in with a plate. On top is a beautiful slice of pie. She hands it to you with a smile.

“Please. Eat the whole slice.”

“Thank you. I almost don’t want to eat it, it’s so perfect-looking.”

She laughs as you take it and cross your legs, balancing it on your knee with your right fingers. You pick up the fork and cut off a bite. As soon as you eat it, you’re overwhelmed by the delicious taste. It’s butterscotch and cinnamon and silky smooth. It makes your tongue tingle.

You make a surprised sound and look at Toriel. “This is absolutely delicious. Did you make this?”

She laughs again, nodding.

“You’re a fantastic cook, wow.”

She blushes. “Oh please. I am glad you are enjoying it.”

As you finish the rest of the pie, the tingling you felt spreads. It courses through you, building, and you sigh as you’re soothed by its relieving heat. Sans is watching you intensely. He glances up at your head.

His face splits into a bright grin and he glances up to look at Toriel gratefully.

Toriel notices and gets up again, examining at your injury.

Or rather, lack of one.

Your hand immediately reaches up to touch the area where your gash was. Smooth. It’s gone. You run your fingers through your hair, completely astonished as you look up at Toriel. Her smile is kind and satisfied.

You whisper, “Oh my god.”

She laughs at your expression. “I am just glad it wor-.” But she’s cut off.

Because you’re hugging her tightly.

When Toriel recovers from her shock, she hugs you back, smiling.

Your words come out a little muffled, “Thank you.”

You pull back, slightly choked up. You take a deep breath and smile at Toriel, finally stepping back to sit on the couch. You grab Sans’ hand and mouth _oh my god_ to him. He laughs and squeezes your hand.

Alphys, Papyrus, and Frisk get up to come look at your head too.

“That is so great human! You are mostly healed!”

Alphys adjusts her glasses as she takes a look, turning to Toriel. “Healing magic?” Toriel nods.

“V-very useful. It works w-well.”

Frisk, meanwhile, stands on their tiptoes to get a good look, placing their small hands on your knees. You laugh as they lean in to whisper something in your ear. They stand back, smiling.

“Yeah your mom did fix me up. She’s pretty great right?”

They give you two thumbs up. Just then Asgore and Undyne walk into the living room with trays of mugs and two kettles. They set them on the table and Asgore fills the cups and hands them out.

As Asgore hands you yours, he takes a look at your head. His eyes are knowing as he smiles.

“I see that Toriel's pie has served you well.”

You nod as you take the cup. “It’s amazing. I almost can’t believe it.”

He chuckles as he straightens and moves over to the other side of the couch, by Sans. Sans shifts over up next to you to make room for Asgore. You bring your mug close, smelling the brew and absorbing the heat. You take a small sip. It tastes like flowers, but warm and sweet like nectar. You hum in contentment as you continue to drink.

Sans feels you relax. It makes him relax as well. He’s thankful for what Toriel did for you. You’re well on your way to a full recovery, and it won’t be much longer until you can get your cast off. Sans closes his eyes, faint smirk on his face.

And celebrate.

You’re lost in your own world, reveling in the residual effects of the magic, as you sit and enjoy your tea. Until you hear your name. You look up, eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m sorry?”

Toriel chuckles. “I was just asking what you do?”

You laugh, leaning forward and setting the cup on the table, “Oh! I go to school at the same university Alphys works at.” Alphys nods excitedly.

Toriel smiles. “Delightful. What do you study?”

“Art history. It’s not engineering, but I find it interesting.” You smile at Alphys who grins back at you.

Toriel nods as Asgore speaks up, “You should show us some of what you study. I’m intrigued.”

“I’d love to!”

Asgore smiles kindly at you, nodding. After, Undyne asks, “So where will you all be staying once you’re moved?”

Asgore responds, “Just outside of downtown.”

“Is that a safe area?”

He nods, looking over at Toriel. “Yes, we believe so. At least we have been assured.”

Undyne’s expression is serious for a moment, eye flashing, before she gives a toothy smile. “Well we’ll be there in case anything goes wrong! Won’t we guys?”

Papyrus shouts, “YES!” as he tosses Frisk in the air, who giggles. You, Sans, and Alphys nod in agreement. Toriel is smiling faintly, looking at Frisk. Asgore on the other hand doesn’t look as amused.

“I’m sure it will not come to anything like that.” You can almost hear the doubt in his voice, half-hoping it’s true.

Toriel turns her attention back to the group, serious. “Even so, we could not ask you to risk yourselves should anything happen, as doubtful as it may be.”

Sans opens one eye, lazily focusing on Toriel. “we’ll be there to help, no _bones_ about it.”

Toriel laughs at the pun, shaking her head clear of her concernn, while everyone else groans. Sans smiles wide, closing his eyes again. You chuckle and lean back into the cushions, listening to Papyrus and Undyne play with Frisk as the rest engage in conversation about the political goings-on with monster-human relations. As the evening turns into night, Sans’ hand wanders and slides into yours. Your thumb rubs circles into the smooth expanse of bone on the back of his hand.

You feel it starting to get late and your feeling is reinforced by sporadic yawns and, even more so, by a completely passed out Frisk in Papyrus’ lap.

Toriel stands and walks to the back of the house for a moment, before coming back in with pillows and blankets for everyone. She places them on the armchair and walks over to Frisk, plucking them from Papyrus’ outstretched arms. She situates them in her arms and turns to everyone, whispering, “I am sorry we do not have enough beds for you, but please, make yourselves comfortable.” She gestures to the blankets and pillows.

Asgore rises as well. “Should you need anything, come and get me. Good night.”

Everyone whispers good night as the three head to the back of the house. You look over at Sans, who hasn’t moved and looks to already be asleep, slouched down into the couch. You smile, letting go of his hand and stand up with Papyrus and Undyne, who distribute the blankets and pillows. Undyne situates herself and Alphys on the loveseat and Papyrus takes the armchair.

“Night you guys.”

They mumble their responses, quickly falling asleep.

You take off your boots and place a pillow and some cushions against the armrest and settle into a reclined position. You lean forward and rest your chin on Sans’ shoulder.

“Hey.”

“hmm.”

“You have three choices.”

“that’s odd,” he mumbles, faintly smiling.

You roll your eyes, smiling as well. “You can either stay there, lay on the other side, or lay on me. Choose wisely.” You lean back and settle into the cushions, waiting for him to make a choice.

His smile gets wider and he moves, falling gently on top of you, back against your chest. You let out a soft _oof_ and laugh. You hear Sans chuckle low in his throat. You lean over the side and grab the blanket, placing it on Sans’ face. His chuckles get louder.

“You have chosen…wisely.”

He takes the blanket and unfolds it over the both of you, snuggling against your torso and in between your legs. You rest your head on the back of the couch and lay your hand on Sans’ head, stroking it softly. He hums and places one hand on your thigh, rubbing your muscles through your jeans. Your fingers trail down his temple and over his cheekbone. He turns his head slightly to kiss your hand.

He whispers against your fingers, “night.”

“Night.”

You fall asleep caressing his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY. Another chapter, YAY! I hope you guys enjoy this one. I had to think about/work a lot harder at it with so much dialogue and people involved, so lemme know if it works, doesn't work, sucks, doesn't suck, etc. 
> 
> ALSO HOLY WOW AT 400+ KUDOS, 50+ BOOKMARKS, AND A SHIT TON OF HITS. You all are so wonderful, thank you so much. To celebrate, I'll write an extra drabble for y'all! And YOU can request it. Just go to my tumblr to submit an idea (or comment below)! I'll pick whichever one works, or is most requested or whatever! We'll see how this goes.
> 
> THANKS AGAIN, BBs <3
> 
> Tumbly: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	16. DRABBLE: Spin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I know I said I'd let y'all voice opinions on drabble, and you STILL CAN. But I came up with one anyway. It's completely separate from the main work, so you can def read it just by itself.
> 
> As you can probably tell, I get ideas for writing most often when listening to music. I was watching Disney's animated short Paperman when I got this one. It's definitely inspired by it, but I hope you enjoy all the same. And if you haven't seen that short, GO SEE IT, it's truly wonderful.
> 
> Thank you again for all the feedback and comments and kudos! This is for your support of my silliness. 
> 
> KTHXBAI

It’s the same routine.

Every day you wake up, shower, get ready for work, and walk to the stop to wait for your ride on the trolley. You like walking just as much as the next guy, but not up these hills. So you wait. You don’t mind that you don’t have a car. Public transportation can be reliable. Sometimes. Ok, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch.

Or rather a lie  _as loooong_  as the amount of time you have to wait for the trolley every so often. You’re really fine with it as long as you get to the stop with plenty of time to spare.

But.

Today is not that day.

The night before, you had been working hard on a paper due the day after tomorrow. There is absolutely no motivator quite like last-minute panic. You can’t be all that mad at your procrastination tendencies. After all, some of your best work comes out right at the finish line. You just wish it wasn’t so soul-crushing in the process.

So you had started your paper-writing bender in the evening, sustaining yourself on coffee and nerves, working long into the night and the next morning. You’d just finished your rough draft and as you rubbed your face, caffeine exiting your system, you eye’d your bed with all the desire of a dying man in need of water. Just 45 minutes you told yourself. Insanity and sleep deprivation go hand-in-hand and rationalization is their modus operandi. As you laid yourself down, setting no less than five alarms, you asked yourself: how could this go wrong when it feels  _so right_ and promptly fell asleep.

As it turns out, nearly everything.

A shaft of light hits your face. You grumble, exhausted. What the hell, why does it seem so much brighter than usual? Brighter…? Sun. Morning…. WHAT  _TIME_  IN THE MORNING?!

“Fuck!”

You lunge out of bed, scrabbling for your phone. As you look at the time and frantically get dressed, you think to yourself, shitshitshitshit. You should have been on your way to the stop by now. You feel so gross, tired, and panicked as you rush downstairs and throw on your backpack. You rush to open the door and lock it as quickly as you can. You’re running to the stop, hoping today the trolley would be a pal and extremely late like it has been before. Your eyes widen and you groan loudly in frustration. The heaving hunk of painted red and green metal is just pulling away. Should you just wait for another? NO. Who  _knows_  how long it will take until another arrives. You inhale a deep breath and start pumping your legs and arms even faster, taking after the trolley. Your backpack is slapping against your back. Adrenaline pushes you forward. You can do it, you can do it. You’re very slowly gaining on it, but then it starts picking up speed. Your heart lurches between its frenzied beating.

“No no no no,” you pant in dismay.

You’re completely focused, hand reaching out for the metal bar. Almost there. You close your eyes and put your last vestiges of energy into a final sprint. It’s now or never. You grab ahold of something.

YES.

But it’s not metal.

You open up your eyes and you stare at your hand. That’s not the bar…. Is that a hand? It looks like a hand alright. But bleached white. And  _distinctly_  boney. You follow it up to a grinning skeleton.

He yells to you in a deep voice, “need a hand?”

His sturdy phalanges grip your hand tightly and you don’t have long to think or respond as he pulls you up with a strength greater than you anticipated. You gasp as he hoists you onto the trolley, hands coming up to your shoulders to make sure you’re steady with the sudden change of momentum. You're slightly bent, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. You look up at the skeleton’s eye-sockets, his pupils bright in delight and victory. You laugh a bit breathlessly and wipe your hand across your forehead to clear the sweat.

“Wow, thank you. That was awesome. Let’s never do it again.”

He barks out a laugh, releasing your shoulders, and sticks out the same hand, “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.”

You smile and take it, shaking it firmly, intrigued by this new character. “No kidding. I’m ___. ___ the human.”

He grins. “ya don’t say.”

You finally let go of his hand and lean back against the railing, exhaling heavily as the adrenaline vacates your body. He mirrors you on the opposite side, one hand holding the bar and the other in his pocket. He tilts his head as he looks at you, grin still on his face.

“so what’s the story?”

You look up, confused expression on your face. “Huh?” You manage to get out as you push your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

He chuckles, “usually people don’t expend that much effort, or look so…frantic, unless it’s for a good reason. at least i wouldn’t, me bein’ a lazybones ‘n all.”

You laugh, teeth flashing, corners of your eyes creasing in mirth. “Typical late night paper procrastination stuff. Wholly unexciting and not worth running to catch my ride.”

He nods, enjoying your laughter. “paper, huh? go to school?”

“Yeah, at the university a couple stops ahead.” He smiles wider, interested. You continue to talk until the trolley stops and you look around at the familiar buildings giving way to dense trees and the soft green slopes leading up to the university. Your stop. You step off and turn around to say goodbye, but you see Sans stepping off with you. He catches you giving him a questioning glance.

“coincidentally, this is where i get off too.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and shifts on his feet. “sounds like ya need some coffee though. wanna get some with me?”

Your mouth lifts into a tired smile. “I’d love some. I’m desperate." You adjust your backpack, putting your hand on your hip as you point at him. "I’m buying though.” Sans shrugs, but his face betrays his enthusiasm at your agreement, eye-lights vivid and focused. It's an expression that hooks you, leaves you excited to see more.

As you both walk to the nearest coffee shop, you rummage in your bag for your wallet. You stop and Sans turns to you, curious. You groan. Of course you would forget something. It’s always something.

You exhale, frustrated, blowing your bangs out of your eyes. “I’m not even surprised.”

Sans casts a glance over your backpack and he puts two and two together. He flashes you a content smile.

“don’t worry about it. i’ll get it.”

You look at him, concerned and wary. “You sure?”

He taps the dark space where his nose would be, lazily winking at you. “yep. no skin off my nose.”

The ridiculousness of the morning finally crashes down on you and you double over laughing, loud and long and boisterous. You are so tired. Sans laughs as he watches you, happiness budding inside him and making its way through his bones at the sound of your laughter. You finally straighten and wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Thanks. Next one’s on me then.”

You come up next to him and you both start walking, smiling.

“it’s a date.”


	17. DRABBLE: Good Bad Vibes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE ANOTHER DRABBLE AND THIS ONE IS MAFIA-RELATED.
> 
> Your regularly scheduled programming will resume in the next day or so. Just taking a small break and having fun with the short fun stuff. I liked writing this one, so I hope you enjoy!

You place your hand on your hair, the strong wind threatening to blow it right into your face. You wish you could just cut it all off. But that won’t do. The wind carries with it a heat; a promise of summer. Underneath all of the smoky smells of the city, you catch the scent of trees and the varied sounds of bustling life.

This is New Ebott.

You walk down the sidewalk through the throngs of people. Tall buildings throw geometric shadows, crisscrossing the streets into a shady latticework; some peaceful in their depth, some malevolent, all awe-inspiring. You look at the faces you pass by. Seemingly “normal,” whatever that word means, but almost all are freaks, criminals, or degenerates of some kind. As unpredictable as a jazz line. It leaves you to wonder where you fit in. You obviously do…somewhere. You just have yet to find out. You stick your hand back in your pocket and idly finger the hole you made in it.

While in your musings, you attempt to cross the street. That is, until a loud honk jars you from your thoughts and a grubby man in a rusty yellow taxi starts yelling at you. Not again. And why today?

You yell back, “Hey, watch out bud, can’t ya see I’m walkin’ here!”

He throws out his arm, face red, “You’re lucky you got a pretty face, toots, or I’d pop ya one good!”

You bristle and walk past the taxi, deciding it’s not worth it. _Except_ for one last jab, “Yeah, yeah I’d like to see ya try, tubs. Now get outta here!”

He speeds past you and you hit the tail end of his cab with the flat of your palm. You exhale hard and continue your way to the joint you like to call your second home. You approach and look at the sign hanging over the door, the paint chipping off, but in a classy way, you know? Makes it look lived in. You open the door and step into Grillby’s.

Monsters you’ve seen before turn their heads, curious, but when they see it’s you, they give you small waves. You return the gesture and make your way to the bar. Grillby, the on-fire-ever-so-hot owner, is behind the counter in his usual place. He’s dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt, black vest, and armbands. How his clothes don’t catch on fire, you have no idea, but living this long in this town, you’ve learned not to ask too many questions. He looks up at you over the rim of his glasses and gives what you’ve come to assume is a smile. You hop onto one of the stools and cross your legs. You lean forward onto the bar and cross your arms as well.

“Hey G. Got a remedy for a gal who’s had a rough day?” Your voice goes a little hushed. “Preferably strong.”

He crackles and responds in his sibilant tone, “I’ll see what I got.” He points a finger at you. “But it’s only because I like ya.”

You chuckle as he disappears into the back for a moment before coming back out with a dark glass with liquid in it. You could be drinking anything. Water, perhaps. Tea, maybe.

But only you and Grillby _really_ know it’s whiskey. Neat.

You take a sip and close your eyes, sighing at the heat as it goes down. You raise your glass to Grillby. “The water of life, G.”

He laughs and leans one arm on the bar as he picks up the glass he was polishing.

“So what’s got your day so rough?”

You attempt to wave off your troubles with your hand as you say, “Work. And damn taxi drivers.”

He raises his eyebrow at you. “Again?”

You roll your eyes at that. You guess it _has_ happened a bit frequently. But you place your hand under your chin as you take another sip, flashing Grillby an award-winning smile. “I think it’s just my magnetic personality.”

His flames glow brighter as he hisses in laughter. “Or your fat mouth.”

You laugh, long and loud and rhythmic, giving Grillby another salute. “Touché.”

He’s about to say something else, when you hear the door open, warm breeze traveling in and kicking up your loose pant legs. You turn on your stool to get a better view, but don’t stare long. Gangsters. If you ain’t got business with ‘em, buzz off. Now these guys, compared to others, are the good guys. Keep places safe, make sure the area’s clear of hooligans and nuts who want to fight, all that. Everyone knows what they really peddle though. The three M’s: money, moonshine, and magic. They play a dangerous game and you would do well to try and stay out of it.

The gangsters that have walked into Grillby’s don’t look all that frightening to you, but looks are deceiving. Today, the house deals two pairs: dogs and skeletons. They range in size; the largest is one dog, then the taller skeleton, next the stockier one, then the other dog. But all dressed to the nines in sharp three-piece suits. That’s what the three M’s get ya.

As they slide into a booth, Grillby walks around the bar with a confident air. He caters to many different crowds, and especially to those who supply him with the beverage you’re enjoying yourself. You take another sip and focus on the bar in front of you.

Grillby strides up to the table. “Afternoon G.D., L.D., Papyrus, Sans.”

The dogs wag their tails and the tall skeleton responds with a cheery, “Hey Grillby!” The shorter one nods and waves.

Grillby smiles and nods back. “The usual I take it?” Everyone nods as Grillby leaves to fill the orders.

Papyrus leans in, voice hushed more than usual. “We must stay vigilant. W.D. heard some rumors that something might happen today. We do not know where.” Everyone nods their understanding, discreetly checking to make sure they have their guns, should any crashers show up. Sans also scans the joint. He knows the exits and entrances pretty well. If anyone showed up uninvited, they would come through the front. As his eyes move across the room, recognizing most of the patrons, he sees someone he doesn’t at the bar. He lingers. They’re dressed in a smart pant suit that hugs the waist _just_ right he thinks. His eyes flick up as Grillby approaches with the orders. After he’s done setting them down, Sans taps Grillby’s arm, motioning him close. He tilts his skull to the bar.

“who’s the doll?”

He looks back to you at the bar. He groans inwardly. Even though Sans is a nice guy, he doesn’t want you to get involved with this crowd.

“A regular. Just not when you are.”

Sans grins. “well, maybe i should go welcome them.”

Grillby raises his eyebrow. “I should warn you, they’re a bearcat.”

Sans waves him off. “nothin’ i can’t handle.”

“Good luck.” Grillby says as Sans gets up from the table. Papyrus waves down Grillby and starts to inform him of what he’s heard.

Sans saunters over to the counter, sliding onto the stool beside you. You’re nearly finished with your drink when you notice the stockier skeleton suddenly next to you. Ah, hell.

He speaks, “come round here often?” His voice is low, with a slight gravelly quality. You glance at him. He’s shorter than the other skeleton, but taller than you. His sockets are dark except for two vivid white lights. He also has a grin stretching across his face. You wonder if it changes. You don’t really want to answer him, but it’s in your best interest right now to play along.

“Depends who’s askin’.”

He smiles even wider and holds out his hand. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.” You look at his hand and only wait a beat before grasping it.

You yelp and rip your hand from his as a small burst of electricity jolts you. You hold your hand and laugh out of shock, staring at him as Sans laughs uproariously.

“sorry, couldn’t pass that up. special order from my friend, Dr. A.” He removes the buzzer and holds his hand out again. “let’s try that again. sans.”

You laugh even more and shake his hand, forgetting for a moment that he’s a gangster. You haven’t been pranked in a while, and it makes you smile. You’re always up for a good joke, no matter where it comes from.

“___.”

“so what brings ya to this neck o’ the woods?”

You think and decide to be honest. Nothing bad comes from telling the truth, right? “A rough day.”

Sans nods and folds his hands on the bar. “and how’s the water treatin’ ya?”

You give him a sidelong glance. “Does just the trick. Guess I should be thankin’ ya for it, huh?”

He chuckles and shrugs. “me? naw, water’s free ain’t it?”

You salute him and shoot down the remaining bit of disguised amber liquid. “You got a point.”

Sans is about to say something else, when the door opens again. You hear several pairs of footsteps and turn. Sans turns as well and his eye-sockets widen.

He hisses, “shit,” right before the group pulls out their tommy guns and the grimy human leading them shouts, “Dust ‘em!”

Everyone scrambles for cover, including Sans, who throws up a table for cover with his magic before he grabs your waist, dragging you down with him. You land and hunch over, groaning from the impact. Shit. This is such a perfect ending to your day. You hurriedly stick your hand into your pocket, pulling out the small .38 pocket pistol you keep strapped around your thigh. You look over at Sans who’s taking his own gun out, peering around to check the situation. The bullets echo out in the small establishment and a few hit your table. You duck your head.

Hell breaks loose even more as you hear more shots coming from Sans and you assume the others. You grimace and hiss at him, “Don’t you have magic?”

He turns his skull to you quickly, winking. “yeah, but ya can never have enough bullets.” He twists back around and shoots until his gun clicks. Most of the men are gone, and Sans manages to take one out before running out of bullets. He curses and sits back against the table.

“Looks like ya need more.” He chuckles as he reloads. He turns his attention to you.

“when it’s quiet, get outta here. the coppers’ll be here soon no doubt.” You nod and open your mouth to reply, but one of the men appears behind Sans. He doesn’t notice right away.

But you do.

You take both hands and aim straight over Sans’ head. His sockets darken and he whips around just as you shoot the man in the shoulder, making him stumble backwards and drop his gun. Sans scoops it up and aims it at his back as he runs away. The guy stumbles out the door just as Sans takes the shot, missing him.

“damn it!”

You hear the man yell, “I know your face!” as he runs away. Your face blanches and you look at Sans, who stares at you, brow furrowed.

He yells, anger in his voice, “l.d., get ‘im!” You hear footsteps race out the door.

Sans calls out, “paps? g.d.? grillby? ya good?”

Papyrus yells back, “Everyone is all right. They are terrible shots!”

You stand up, a bit shaky on your feet. You’ve never been in a real firefight before. You would rather not do it ever again. L.D. runs back in and over to Sans. Your heart jumps in your throat. His eyes are sorrowful as he shakes his head, whining.

Sans growls. “son of a bitch musta gotten picked up already.” He pats the dog’s head. “thanks for tryin’ l.d..”

He turns back to you, expression a bit worried, but more determined than anything.

“ya ok?”

You nod and put your pistol back in its holster.

He gives you a faint smile. “guess i should be thankin’ ya for that, huh?”

You brush off your suit and return his smile at the echoing of your words. “Well…. It couldn’t hurt this time.” He chuckles at that.

He moves close to you, rummaging in his pockets. He takes your hand and sticks something in it. You look down and flip it over and over. It looks like a business card.

“i’m sorry we couldn’t get the guy. call us if anything happens.” You look into his eyes, worried. Gangsters cut straight to the chase. You can expect anything to happen now. You don’t know how they’d find you with just a face, but you’re sure they’ll find a way. It would be stupid now to not ask for help. You set your jaw and nod. You all start as you hear sirens. He squeezes your hand before stepping away with his group.

“let’s scram.” They all run out. Grillby strides over to you.

“Are you ok?”

You nod, focusing on him. “Are you? God, sorry about your place. I can come back to help clean up.”

He starts ushering you to the backdoor. “Don’t worry about it, they’ll compensate me. Just get home safe. Call me to check in, ok?”

You nod and step into the alleyway. Grillby watches you turn and run away, disappearing into the crowds. He shakes his head, extremely worried for you. You’re in deep now, whether you want to be or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUUUUuuuuumbblllrrr: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	18. Communicate

You wake up the next morning to the whirring and heavy metallic rocking of the moving truck arriving. You rub your eyes and yawn, but a solid weight compresses your chest. You look down. That’s right. Sans fell asleep on top of you basically. Your lips lift into a tired smile. His left arm is still tucked around your leg as his right is hanging off the side of the couch. His arm tightens as he feels you shifting and his right arm comes up to rub his face.

You sweep your eyes around and see Undyne, Alphys, Papyrus start to wake up too. You look over to the kitchen where Toriel and Frisk are already up and making coffee and breakfast for the rest of you. You also notice that Asgore is already outside and talking to the movers.

Your attention comes back to Sans. You lean forward and place a quick kiss to his skull.

“Morning.”                

His grumbles are sleepy, but good-natured. “mornin’.”

“I’m gonna go get ready for the day real quick, ok?”

Sans nods, giving your leg one last squeeze, and sits up to let you off the couch. You rise, stretching your cramped muscles. You grab some clothes from your bag and head to the bathroom.

You wave to Toriel and Frisk in the kitchen.

“Morning Toriel, Frisk.”

They both turn to you and smile, Frisk waving vigorously.

“Good morning, ___! Would you like coffee or breakfast?”

“Definitely. I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be back, ok?”

She nods and you step into the bathroom.

Sans meanwhile, stands up from the couch, rubbing the sleep from his face. While he enjoys sleeping next to you, on top isn’t necessarily the most comfortable. For him, and probably not for you either. He shuffles into the kitchen and the others follow.

Toriel smiles at everyone, “Good morning. Help yourselves to breakfast.”

Sans heads for the coffee, pouring out two cups; one for him and one set aside for you. He gives Toriel a crooked smile, saluting her as he leans against the countertop.

“thanks a latte.”

She giggles and retorts, “I hope you like it. This coffee is very good, I have never _bean_ more awake.”

Sans chuckles and takes a sip of the hot liquid. She comes up and refills her mug as well, looking down slyly at him.

“So it seems you and ___ are quite close, hmm?”

Sans looks up quickly at her for a moment, blue blush coloring his features. Her expression is knowingly amused, fur lifting in mirth. He takes another pull from his coffee.

“yeah, i guess ya could say that.”

She blows across the top of her mug. She responds conversationally, “Well, I think you two are good for each other.”

He looks up again, surprised, eye-lights bright and curious. “yeah? what makes ya say that?”

She smirks at Sans, raising her eyebrow with all the grace of a former queen. “I am not socially inept, Sans. And I know my friends. I can tell they make you happier. They have a good soul.”

He looks down again, blush returning. He chuckles a bit. “heh, well ya really get to the _heart_ of the matter don’t ya tori.”

She winks at him. “I have a good _eye_ for these types of things.”

He laughs with her.                          

Once inside the bathroom, you change into your athletic clothes. It’s a sports bra, tank top, and jogging pants kind of day. You slip on your running shoes and tie back your hair as best you can. You put on your sling, grab your clothes and head back out into the living room. You stuff your clothes into the bag and close it, straightening back up. Everyone is in the kitchen, eating and talking. You smell coffee and step in.

Sans turns to you and hands you a mug.

“Thanks.” You smile at him and take a sip of your coffee.

“no problem,” he responds, his hand brushing against the small of your back as you step and lean against the counter. You watch everyone, the chatter and clatter of conversation lulling you as you listen. You sip your coffee and turn your gaze to Asgore and the movers outside.

You lean over to Sans and ask, “Does Asgore like coffee or just tea?”

He takes a swig from his mug. “think he’s more of a tea guy.”

You hum. “Well it’s a shame he’s missin’ out on the part- _tea_. Think I’ll go give him a mug. Also gotta take the bags out to the truck and get it ready.”

Sans laughs, nodding his assent. “think he’ll appreciate it. i’ll be out in a minute to help.”

You smile and turn to make a cup of breakfast tea for Asgore. You hold the mug in your right hand as you step out of the kitchen and grab your bag with your left. You nudge open the door and step outside. Not too cold, not too hot. Not a cloud in the sky. It’s really a beautiful day. The morning is still, the only movement being a crisp breeze that teases your hair and the bustle of the movers disturbing the otherwise calm silence. All in all, a perfect day for moving.

You step off the porch and cross the yard to where Asgore is standing. He turns as he hears you walk up.

“Good morning, child.”

“Morning Asgore. Brought you some tea. Everyone needs a pick-me-up in the morning.”

His dark eyes widen in surprise and his face splits into a delighted smile as he takes the mug from your hand.

“Thank you. I can never turn down a cup of tea. This is very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.” You give him a broad smile.

He sips his tea quietly, before speaking up again.

“I would also like to thank you for helping today. Not many would help us if they had a choice.”

You shrug. “Well then it sucks to be them, because you guys are great. Doesn’t matter who you are. Everyone needs help sometimes.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, genuine smile lifting the fur of his face. His large hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder briefly before he turns his attention back to the movers.

You step away and go to your truck, opening the door and throwing the bag inside. You grab the elastic cables and step around to the bed, hooking them in the sides. You move to the back and lower the door to the bed.

As you’re getting the truck ready, everyone files outside carrying various boxes. Undyne and Papyrus race to see who can carry the most and fastest. They place the boxes in the bed and run back for more pushing each other in their haste, laughing all the way. Alphys, Toriel, Frisk, and Sans come up next.

You laugh.

Sans is probably carrying one of the smallest boxes. You lean on the truck, propping up your head with your left arm and smirk at him. He sees you and chuckles, completely without shame.

“Be careful there. Wouldn’t want to overexert yourself.”

He laughs at that. “they don’t call me a lazybones for nothin’.”

You stick your tongue out and smile at him. He places the box in the bed and ambles back inside for more, Undyne and Papyrus sprinting past him.

After several more trips, your truck is starting to get a bit full. Everyone except Asgore is inside taking a small break. So you start throwing the cables over the boxes and securing them down. As you do that, a group of three people pass by, two men and one woman. They slow, watching the activity. They start talking loudly and you stiffen as you hear them, voices spitting.

“Yeah, ya better fuckin’ move. Don’t want your kind around here!”

Asgore turns, brow furrowed and fur slightly bristling. One of the movers yells at the group to get moving. They protest half-heartedly and begin to move on until they catch sight of you by the truck. What an easy target you make, one-armed and alone.

Shit.

Your mind swiftly reminds you of what happened last time and you can only hope you can keep your mouth shut.

You steadfastly ignore them as they viciously shout biting insults at you.

“Fuckin’ traitor!”

“Bet you’re fuckin’ one of ‘em, ya whore.”

“Yeah, freak!”

Your rage is rising, and it’s taking all of your willpower not to say anything. But damn is it hard. The last thing you want is to antagonize anybody and cause trouble for Asgore, no matter how much these people fucking deserve to eat their words. You repeat to yourself like a mantra, as if your life depended on it, and it may if these people had their way: don’t go looking for trouble, don’t go looking for trouble.

Asgore hears them again, eyes now flashing in anger, and he starts to stride over to you. You don’t notice in your focused single-mindedness. You walk with purpose around the truck and lean inside, flipping the engine on. You plug in your phone and crank up the speakers all the way, drowning out the hateful shouts. You’re not entirely sure it’s _not_ out of spite, but what you are sure of is that the music will help you calm down.

**You’ve got opinions man! We’re all entitled to ‘em.**

**But I never asked.**

**So let me thank you for your time, and try not to waste any more of mine.**

**Get outta here fast.**

You get out of the truck and continue to secure the boxes, getting lost in the music. You hope they just go away.

Meanwhile, Sans and the others hear the music and they look outside.

Fuck.

Sans tenses as he sees the group yelling at you, outrage unleashing his temper and his magic as his eye lights up. You’re ignoring them, seeming keen to take his previous words to heart.

The people don’t just leave. They want you to know _exactly_ what they think of you, music be damned. They start to cross the street. Your anger rises along with a trace of fear poisoning your resolve. You straighten, head held high, and turn slightly to the side, getting ready and protecting your injured arm. Suddenly, a heavy arm lays around your shoulders and you see the group stop, fear in their faces and dread in their eyes. The music is loud in your ears.

**Who cares if you disagree, you are not me**

**Who made ya king of anything?**

**So you dare tell me who to be**

**Who died and made you king of anything?**

You look up to your right and see Asgore glaring hard at the group, imposing and regal. It even sends shivers down your spine. You _do not_ want to be on the other side of that ever.

To your left is Sans. He must have teleported when he saw the people cross over. His hands are balled tight in his pockets. His smile is wide, but absolutely devoid of anything worth laughing about.

It’s downright wicked.

His left eye is blazing, flames licking his skull viciously as he stares down the group.

The group stumbles backwards, a couple of them throw up their arms in defeat as they walk hastily away. You all watch them as they disappear down the street. When they’re finally out of view, you slump slightly, the adrenaline gone from your body. You step away from Asgore and Sans and lean into the truck to turn it off.

You turn and face them. Sans moves close, and you’re thankful. His presence is like a balm to your nerves, that crisp snow and pine scent calming you. He practically snatches your hand up, concern and fury in his eyes. Asgore steps towards you as well, sadness replacing the anger.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry they said such hurtful things.”

You flash him a small smile and shrug. “They’re just words. I’m ok.”

Sans’ hand tightens as his eye flashes again. His eye-lights are dim, nearly gone from his sockets. You squeeze his hand back, rubbing your thumb over the top.

“Thanks for coming guys. I’m really alright, no worries.”

Asgore smiles, but it doesn’t seem to reach the rest of his face as he nods his understanding. “I will let everyone know there is nothing to worry about.” He leaves to go inside the house.

Sans is not so easily convinced.

He grinds out, “are you ok?”

You give a big exhale, shaking your shoulders. “Yeah, I am.”

His eyes search your face. He’s still angry.

“what did they say?”

You give a small chuckle and lean against the truck. “Pick something. They probably said it.”

“___.”

You sigh, “It doesn’t matter what they said. They’re just words. They only have as much power as I give them. And I give them none. Plus, you would only get angrier if I told you, so don’t worry about it now, ok? For me?”

He growls and exhales roughly, looking away, expression conflicted.

“I’m not letting them get to me, so don’t let them get to you. Ok?”

He closes his eyes and leans against the side of the truck next to you, throwing his head back in exasperation.

“why can’t i just dunk on ‘em.”

You bust out laughing at that, rhythmic and loud. His frown lifts somewhat at your laughter.

“Because that would be _too_ awesome.”

He chuckles softly and sighs. He looks over to you.

“nice song choice by the way.”

You smirk nonchalantly, pursing your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. It was just the song that was on.”

He chuckles but gives you a serious look. “proud of you for not sayin’ anything. i know it was hard.”

You blow your bangs out of your face. “And _you_ say you wanna dunk on them.”

He huffs and smirks. He tugs on your hand. “let’s go back inside.”

You both walk back inside the now-empty house. You catch Asgore finishing placating everyone. Mainly Undyne, who’s raring to fight. She sees you and shouts, “Who do I gotta go after, ___?”

You laugh and shake your head. “Nobody! It’s really ok.” Papyrus is wringing his hands, looking slightly worried, until he sees you and then he brightens a bit.

“Human, are you ok?”

You nod and smile at him, heading over to give him a hug. He embraces you tightly and you laugh again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Asgore speaks up still trying to destress the situation, looking over at Toriel, “I believe that is everything. Should we depart?”

Toriel looks around, taking account of everything and everyone. She nods, smiling. “Yes, let us go.”

Everyone exits outside. After Asgore gives directions to the new house, you all get into your respective vehicles. You pull your keys out of your pocket, but they’re quickly plucked out of your hand by boney fingers. Sans.

“Hey!”

He winks at you. “i’m drivin’.”

You smile at him as you respond, “You sure you can handle it?”

He smirks. “i can handle you can’t i?”

You burst into laughter and stick your tongue out at him as you climb into the passenger seat.

“Fair point.”

He starts up the truck, adjusting the seat and mirrors before pulling out after the others. You lean and grab the pillow from the back, sitting back and holding it in front of you, hugging it tightly. You rest your chin on the cool fabric as you slip down into the seat. It smells faintly like Sans and that puts you more at ease. You think back to today and purse your lips at the memory. You’re still a bit riled up from the encounter. They _are_ just words. They don’t have any intrinsic meaning other than what society has given to them. It’s not that the words hurt you, it’s that they were even said at all that bothers you. Your face falls. While you believe what you know to be real and true, it sometimes takes you a little while to accept it fully. Especially since you weren’t able to really defend yourself. You’re only human. You sigh into the pillow and breathe in again. You just have to keep bolstering yourself until it sinks in.

Sans glances over at you. You’re quiet, eyes intent on the road ahead as you hug the pillow. You look…pensive. Maybe not exactly sad; dejected, perhaps. Maybe a little angry too. He’s right there with you. He wishes he could have prevented those people from saying anything to you, not to mention the urge to get back at them for obviously hurting you somewhat. He knows you told him to forget about what they said, but the curiosity eats at him. He shoves it down though. You’ve been kind enough to respect his privacy regarding what he wants to talk about; it’s only fair he extends the same courtesy to you. He won’t ask what they said. You can tell him if you truly want to. But it’s _not_ gonna stop him from making sure you’re ok.

“ya really ok? be honest.”

You tilt your head and look at him. “Yeah. I’m mostly ok. I _will_ be fine. It just takes a little while sometimes, ya know?”

“yeah.”

You’re quiet for another minute, inspecting the surroundings and Sans’ face. Maybe talking about it will help you feel better. Plus, if you want to be with Sans, you feel being honest and forthright with your thoughts and feelings is the best policy. Not talking about things is a death sentence. For any kind of relationship; friendship, casual, or serious.

“Traitor. Freak. Whore.”

His head snaps to you, gazing at you hard. His left pupil turns blue for an instant. You look back at him, cheek on the pillow, resigned.

“they said that to you?”

“Yeah. Don’t get too worked up over it ok? I mean you’re gonna be mad obviously, just don’t take it to heart.”

He exhales heavily, fingers tightening on the steering wheel, getting his magic under control. You’re damn right he’s mad. But…he’ll try to stay calm for you.

“i don’t have to tell ya you’re not those things.”

Your laugh is short as you nod. “I know. Even if I was, I’d be fucking proud of it if it means being with you guys. They can go fuck themselves for all I care. Just wanted to get it off my chest.”

One corner of his mouth curls up in a faint smile at your fire. It doesn’t really reach the rest of his face though as he thinks. You watch him, curious.

“What’re you thinking?”

He sighs, glancing over at you, hands gripping the steering wheel even harder. Anxiety and doubt come unbidden, dragging Sans down. _He_ almost regrets even asking it, but he does anyway. He can’t help it. “do you regret this?”

Your eyes widen, surprised at the question. You frown and raise your eyebrow. “You kidding? Knowing me, do you _really_ think I would be here if I didn’t want to be? Would _you_?”

Relief spreads through his bones and his hands relax. His smile grows a bit as he leans his skull back against the headrest, looking over at you, feeling only slightly foolish.

“you’re right.”

“Damn straight. You’re not stupid, so get those kinds of thoughts outta your skull.” You reach out and tap his forehead. He chuckles at that.

You curl your hand and stroke his temple and cheekbone. “So to answer your question, no, I don’t regret this. Not even one bit. It’s not even a possibility. And I have a feeling you don’t regret it either.”

He grins at you, savoring your touch. “not one bit.”

You take your arm back and hug the pillow harder, smiling at him. “Good. Because I would have to convince you otherwise.”

He winks at you slyly. “well…i’m sure it couldn’t hurt.” You laugh into your pillow. But a thought crosses your mind.

“So speaking of convincing, it may kind of relate, I don’t know. When you look at my soul, what happens? What does it feel like? For me and you? Can you touch it? Can you like…read my _mind_?” You giggle a little.

Sans chuckles at your enthusiastic questions, happy to see you more like yourself. Everything feels so off-kilter and… _wrong_ when you’re lacking your usual tenacity.

“well, you’ll feel a pull. it won’t hurt, just feel weird. i can get a sense of your soul when it’s inside, but it gets clearer outside, as you can probably guess.” He gets a bit more serious. “magic can touch your soul, so that means i can. you can’t. but that’s a very personal thing. i’d only ever do it if you wanted me to.”

“What happens if you touch it?”

“kinda like what you said. i get the complete sense of… _you_. whole. complete. concentrated. no hiding.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “all the broken parts, the perfect parts…. what you’re afraid of. what you hate. what you love….” He trails off.

You stare at him, eyes wide, slightly entranced by his words and the tone behind them. “woah…. I can see how it could be tempting.” He flashes you an intense look as he nods.

Your brow furrows. “But also scary. Wouldn’t that overwhelm you?”

“i imagine it could. never done it before. but i also imagine both parties survive intact, since it’s been done before. not too worried about that though. souls have ways of protecting themselves; even from other souls.”

“Would I feel you at all?”

He tilts his head as he stares out along the road, thinking. “i think so. though maybe not to the same degree. i’m not sure.”

You hum, concentrating. “So monsters are able to do it. And _have_ been able to. Has it acquired any significance to monsterkind?”

He smiles at you. “good question. to some extent. ya usually only hear about it between close couples.”

You hum again, interested. You feign collectedness, though your mind is anything but. The implications of that action are huge. First off, could you let anyone touch your soul? Not that Sans is just _anyone_ ; he is definitely not. The act, in and of itself, is daunting. Furthermore, are you and Sans close enough to warrant that? You’re attracted to each other, sure, and you feel close to him; closer than you’ve felt to others. You feel in your own soul that it could be love; it’s never really reacted this way before. It’s too soon to truly tell though. A big problem is that you just don’t know about him. And there’s _no_ way you’re gonna make him do something that requires so much of him and means a certain level of intimacy that you’re not even sure he returns. So until you get a sign from him, no touching of souls.

Sans watches you think through it all. He’s sure you’re coming to the same conclusions he is. You’re clever. It’s a big thing. If you asked him to do that, he probably would. He knows the ins and outs of his soul better than you do yours, so he knows what he wants. If it’s not love just yet, he knows it will be. Your souls definitely respond to each other, there’s no denying that. He smiles wryly to himself. You probably don’t want to push him because you don’t know if he feels the same way and so, you won’t ask; but the only way he could truly know how you felt, and vice versa, would be to touch your soul. A catch-22 if he’s ever heard of one. It’s like you said before though. There’s no pressure and no rush. Just enjoy each other. If it comes to that, then it will. He may have to make that move first though. And _that_ makes him nervous.

After sorting out everything in your head, you say, “Thanks for listening by the way. I feel better.” And you do.

“good.”

He extends his right hand out to you. You take it and lace your fingers together. You smile. You’re not sure you’ll ever get over the feeling of bone against your skin. It’s strange and great and exhilarating in all the best ways. You sigh and lean your head back, closing your eyes. You eventually nod off.

Sans hand tightens around yours as he glances over at you napping. Your brow has smoothed out in sleep, mouth partly open, strands of hair laying lightly on your face. The sight relaxes him and his thumb strokes the back of your hand.

How could he ever regret this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand we're BACK. BOOM BABY.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, BBs! Keep being fucking rad <3
> 
> I also have another work out, Good Bad Vibes! Check it out if you like Mob AUs! 
> 
> TUMBLRRRRR: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	19. Rest

You wake up to Sans calling your name and tugging at your hand. You yawn and blink, eyelids heavy from sleep. Your hand slips from his grip and you sit up to stretch. The scenery outside is starting to become familiar as you realize you’re back in your own city, almost to downtown already. You look over at Sans whose eye-lights are following your movements in between glances at the road.

“Thanks for lettin’ me nap. Guessin’ the drive was ok?”

He chuckles and nods. “yep. and i guess your nap was good, if the drool is any indication.”

Your eyes widen and your hand flies to your face. You groan.

Nothing.

You punch him on his arm as you smile. “Ugh, you ass.”

Sans bursts into deep laughter, winking at you. “sorry, don’t have one.” You can’t help but laugh with him.

Sans pulls up to a large house behind the others. The neighborhood seems decent enough to you. Modern cookie-cutter houses line the clean streets, but theirs happens to look larger and more updated than the rest. The evening light paints the neighborhood in shades of burnt orange and pink and encroaching blue. The movers are already unloading the truck in the driveway. Sans turns your truck off and you both step out. You all waste no time in moving. You unhook the belts from the sides of your bed and lower the gate. You take small boxes, balancing them on your shoulder and follow Undyne and Papyrus’ lead in and out of the house. It doesn’t take too long to get all the boxes inside. By the time you’re all done, it’s almost dark, the fading sun casting long shadows across the lawn. Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk stand outside with you all before you leave, hugging and making their goodbyes.

Toriel comes up to you and gives you a warm hug. “Thank you for your help today. Please, do not be a stranger. Come by whenever you would like.”

“Of course,” you respond as you nod and smile. Frisk runs up and tugs you down for a hug as well, whispering thanks and an invitation to come over and play in your ear. You hug them back. You're touched by their trust and enthusiasm. “I definitely will.”

You straighten and turn to Asgore next. He extends his arms out and smiles. You step forward and try to wrap your arm around him, but it doesn't quite make it. That's ok, because his large arms encase you, warm and soft and kind. He pulls back, saying, “Thank you again. It means very much to all of us that you helped today. Do not hesitate to come over. We can have tea.” He smiles down at you.

You laugh and nod. “I’d love that.”

You turn and give Undyne and Alphys hugs as well. “Let’s hang out again soon, ok?”

“Duh! You gotta get your dumb cast off first and then we’ll be able to swim!”

“Y-yeah! And let’s have lunch this week.” 

You wave and call, "I'll text you!" as they walk back to Papyrus' car.

You finally turn to Sans and Papyrus. You give Papyrus a big one-armed hug. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Nyeh! Yes, human, we will have to make spaghetti again when you do!” You giggle and give him one last squeeze before you let go. You’re about to open your mouth to say goodbye to Sans when he speaks.

“hey bro, i’m gonna make sure ___ gets home safe. i’ll see ya at home, ok?”

Papyrus cackles, “YES BROTHER. I WILL SEE YOU AT HOME THEN.” He runs off to his car.

You hear Sans groan under his breath as you both get back into your truck. You start it up and make your way back to your apartment. You look over at Sans with a knowing smile. While you're sure he does want to make sure you get home alright, you think you have an idea of how he  _really_ wants to say bye. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you would be just fine with a quick peck, no thanks I'm good to go until I see you again.

“You didn’t have to you know.”

He chuckles and tilts his head to you. “i know. wanted to give ya a proper goodbye though.”

“True. Couldn’t really do uh…much in polite company.”

He hums. You pull up to your place and grab your bag as you both get out, walking to the door. You open it, looking back over your shoulder, sly grin lifting your lips.

“I don't suppose you’d like to come in?”

He shrugs lazily, winking at you. “if ya don’t mind.”

“Never,” you laugh. You step inside and Sans follows, shutting the door and locking it. You throw your bag on the floor and take off your shoes, relishing the familiar smells and comforts of home. There's nothing quite like coming home after a long day's work.

“You want anything while you’re here?”

You jump somewhat when you feel Sans’ hands slide around your waist, hugging you from behind. He pulls you in close and kisses your bare shoulder.

“you.”

Your hand runs along the length of his arm. You smile and lean your head back against his shoulder as his scent fills and calms you, wraps around you like a blanket that says don't worry. He kisses you slowly up your shoulder to the smooth expanse of your throat, lingering there, just breathing you in. His fingers lightly brush your abdomen and catch on the fabric of your shirt. You turn in Sans’ arms and place yours around his neck, pressing your lips against his mouth. He groans and his arms tighten.

You pull back, breathing hard and smiling wide. “Been waiting to do that again.”

He whispers against your lips, “me too.”

Once you separate, your smile falters a little. “You probably can’t stay for long huh? Papyrus is expecting you back home.”

His smile drops too. “yeah.” You watch as his eyes brighten again with the promise of a plan. “but i can at least make sure you’re tucked in,” he says, “and i’m sure ya gotta take a shower first too, right?”

His unabashed play causes you to laugh.

“Yep.”

You take his hand and lead him upstairs. You guide him over to the bed, kissing him quickly before shoving him down on it. He laughs and lays down.

“Stay there. I’ll be done in a few.” You head into your bathroom and take a shower, washing yourself as quick as you can. Sans listens to you move around in your shower, and it takes a great deal of effort on his part to not join you. A little bit later, you wrap yourself in a towel and step out of doorway, steam leaking from inside, dissipating around you. Sans looks over and sits up on the edge of the bed, your arrival commanding his immediate attention. His pupils light up as he stares at you. Your gut reaction is to start feeling a bit shy, but you step out into your bedroom anyway. It's not like he hasn't seen you before.

“Just need to get some clothes for bed.”

“why?”

“Because.” You stick your tongue out and smile at him as you walk by.

But all of a sudden your towel is yanked from its knot securing it around your body. You yelp and give a shocked laugh as you instinctively try to cover yourself. You whip around to find Sans leaning elbows on knees with his right arm propping up his chin and the towel in his left. He has a devilish grin hidden without success behind a look of innocence.

“ya don’t need those.”

You exhale and gain your bearings, moving your arms from your body, confidence replacing the surprise. You place your hand on your hip and stick your tongue out at him again, even though laughs still escape out from your supposed indignant expression. You head into your closet.

“Yes I do.”

“who says?”

“I do!” You yell from your closet. You grab a pair of panties and shirt, pulling both on. You step back out and find Sans still holding your towel. When he sees you, he gives an obvious groan, pouting. 

“there’s just somethin’ about…nothing. especially on you.”

You walk over to him, smiling and shaking your head, bending over to grab the towel and throw it into your bathroom without another thought. You crawl up onto Sans’ lap, straddling him. He looks up at you. Want and need are one and the same in his expression, holding hands as tight as the grip he has on your bare thighs.

You lean down and murmur against his mouth, “Well when you sleep over with me, then maybe you can have a say in what I wear to bed.”

“i’m gonna hold ya to that.”

You chuckle and your hand slides over the smooth crown of his skull. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You kiss him hard and he returns it with equal fervor. When you finally split, you ask, “Now, weren’t you gonna tuck me into bed?”

He grins at you and as he stands he wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting you up. You give a cry of laughter and hold on tight, legs encircling his hips. Your laughter spurs Sans to chuckle deep in his chest. He moves your covers back and lays you down. You pull up the sheets and he bends over, placing his hands on either side of your head. He kisses you with a gentleness that is both sad and tender. He really wishes he could just stay. One of his hands comes up and brushes your cheek.

“sleep well.”

“You too. Text me if you need anything.”

“same for you. g’night.”

You smile. “Night.”

He stands up and his eye comes to life. He gives you one last grin before he falls out of existence.

\-----------

When Sans arrives back in the living room of his home, he finds Papyrus cooking in the kitchen. He turns and sees Sans walk in.

“Brother! I am glad you made it back safely.”

“heh, thanks bro.”

Sans sits down at the table, hands stuffed into his pockets. Papyrus sets down two plates of spaghetti and sits across from Sans. Papyrus is quiet for a moment before speaking up, skeletal brow creased in marginal worry.

“Is our friend truly alright?”

Sans looks up and smiles to ease his brother. “yeah. they’re strong. won’t let just anything bring ‘em down.”

Papyrus smiles back, nodding. He trusts Sans to let him know if you weren’t. “I am glad. Though I _am_ surprised you came back home so quickly.” He winks at Sans at a breakneck pace, who rolls his eyes in amusement.

“i said i’d be back.”

Papyrus shrugs and finishes up his spaghetti. “Well, you do not have work tomorrow, and should I knock on your door tomorrow morning but receive no answer, I will NOT. BE. SURPRISED.” He shoots Sans a mischievous smile.

Sans laughs at the brazenness of his brother. “you are so subtle.”

“NYEH HEH! Subtlety is my middle name!” He bends down and whispers loudly, “It is not, but you know what I mean.” Sans’ laughs increase.

Papyrus takes Sans’ plate and puts both in the sink. “All I am saying is that you both are happy and that makes me happy and you should spend time together because that is what the dating book says. And I, THEGREATPAPYRUS, am a dating expert. Obviously.”

Sans exhales, residual laughs reverberating through his bones. “obviously.”

He gets up and hugs Papyrus. “thanks for the advice, paps. i’m gonna head to bed, but do ya want me to read ya a story first?”

“YES.” Papyrus runs off, scrambling to his room. Sans chuckles and follows. Once he’s done reading Papyrus his story, he heads into his own room, throwing his shirt on his bed. He attempts to stretch the fatigue from his bones after today. He is definitely not used to moving that much. A shower would probably help with that. He pulls his phone from his pocket and it lights up with a message. From you.

**_\- Do you have work tomorrow?_ **

He chuckles and responds, phalanges tapping on the screen.

_\- nope. do u have school?_

**_\- Nope._ **

**_\- You tired?_ **

His smile grows.

_\- depends_

**_\- Too tired to teleport?_ **

He most certainly is not.

_\- nope_

**_\- Well. If you want…there’s a cold side to my bed that’s begging to be warmed up. Just puttin’ that out there._ **

Perfect.

He doesn’t respond, instead hopping into the shower and putting on some clean clothes afterwards. It’s a little while later when he falls back into your bedroom. He takes in his surroundings. It’s dark. Long shadows cut the inky blue atmosphere. Crickets and cicadas interrupt the calm silence of your bedroom. That’s when he catches sight of you. Your back is to him and it looks like you’ve rolled over to the other side. He pads over, steps hushed by the carpet. He hears your soft, steady breathing joining the minor cacophony of night noises. You must be on your way to sleep if you’re not already. He pulls back the covers and slips in behind you. He brings his arm up and lays it over your side, drawing you close to him. His fingers graze the skin of your stomach and once again, he’s taken aback by just how soft and warm you are.

You shift and come back to the waking world as you feel a bony arm wrap around your waist. Sans. You yawn and smile, stretching against his rigid body. His arm tightens and you feel his face brush against your hair.

“You came,” you whisper into the darkness, voice thick from your mild slumber.

“how could i not.”

You let out a soft laugh and run your hand along the bare bones of his arm. You hear him sigh and ask in a low voice, “now can i hold ya to your word from earlier?”

Your smile grows. You know what he’s talking about. “Mhmm. But only if you do too.”

He exhales, pleased. “wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position with your back to Sans. You grab the edge of your shirt, bringing it up. The fabric makes soft sounds as it brushes across your skin, sighing at its release. Sans is captivated by your back as he helps you out of your shirt, fingers following the shirt’s journey across your skin. You throw your shirt off to the side as Sans shrugs out of his. He brings his hands up and runs them from the small of your back all the way to your shoulders. You sigh. It feels wonderful, and so freeing. You lay on your back once again. Sans is watching you, intense, leaning on his elbow as his other hand traces lines across your chest. Your hand comes up to the hem of your panties, dragging them down and out from your legs. You throw them with your shirt, finding its place in a pile of content rejection. Sans follows your example, tugging off his own shorts. When he’s done, his arms reach out to you and pull you in close against his chest. Your legs tangle together and you rub your calf against his tibia, muscles yielding to hard bone.

A satisfied noise escapes your mouth and you close your eyes as you kiss his face. Around his mouth. To his cheekbone. Down to his jaw. He closes his eyes too. Your kisses are tender and he feels the love behind it. His magic thrums.

“i love when you do that.”

Sans’ soft admission makes you smile against his jaw. Another kiss. “Well I love to do it.” The back of your hand strokes along his sternum and his hands rub your back. Sans steals a kiss of his own. When you pull away, you can’t hold back a yawn. Sans chuckles, pressing his mouth to your forehead.

“sleep.”

You scoot even closer, lips lingering on his collarbone. “You too.”

“mhmm,” he murmurs. The pauses in between his light kisses on your face stretch until it's endless and you both fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! The next couple chapters will be a bit shorter, cuz it just felt like TOO much having them together. So I split 'em. But I hope you enjoy the fluff, all the same.
> 
> Thank you again for all your wonderful comments, kudos, and just reading. Y'all are great.
> 
> Tumbl with me: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	20. Rise*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEEOOO Smut warning!
> 
> It's done about a third of the way through, BBs.

The late morning sun illuminates your apartment, peeking through your closed curtains. You’re a morning person as long as you get to at least wake up with the sun. Any time before sunrise, and you’re perpetually tired, no matter how much sleep you’ve gotten. You open your eyes as you wake up and find yourself in nearly the same position as when you fell asleep. Sans’ arms lay heavy around you and your legs are still entwined. Your fingers are grasping his ribs and your head is tucked up under his chin. You’re so close that you can almost hear his latent magic hum through his bones, chest expanding and contracting of its own volition. It’s a soothing feeling, like it’s rocking you to sleep. The faint sound almost reminds you of the ocean, steady waves licking at the sand; a strong, soft sibilance. Your eyes follow the grain of his ribs and you think that the magic you hear is like the ocean in more ways than sound. It runs deep and has always been there for longer than you can imagine. You smile and close your eyes, falling asleep again.

The next time you wake up, Sans wakes with you. He feels you shift and stretch and he imitates, arms tightening and bones rattling as he yawns. You nuzzle him, pressing closer.

“Morning.”

He exhales, voice deep and raspy from sleep. “mornin’.”

“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to waking up like this all the time.” Sans’ body shakes with suppressed chuckles. He places a tired kiss to your head. “me either.”

“You’re pretty much welcome over whenever. My home is your home, et cetera.” You trail off into a yawn. His fingers stroke along your spine. It makes you shiver.

“so what’d ya wanna do today?”

A thought passes through your mind. Oh, he set himself up for this one. Your soft laughs turn into wheezes as you clutch his ribs, trying to calm down. He raises his eyebrows, looking down at you curiously.

“You,” you finally manage to get out. His jaw drops as he laughs with you. He leans up and moves his mouth to your neck, kissing your throat. You’re still in the throes of laughter and his chuckles make your skin tingle.

“who am i to deny your request,” he laughs.

You respond a little breathless, “Obviously someone pretty smart.” He rubs his hand down the length of your body and you feel the heat pool inside you and between your thighs.

“and wasn’t it smart to not wear clothes to bed? much more, hmm…,” his eye blazes, the flames as enticing as the tongue that licks your throat, “efficient.”

You pant out a small laugh. “Well, you _are_ the scientist….”

He chuckles and nips your collarbone. “and i think i wanna perform some experiments.” His hands tighten on you and his kisses get deeper as he trails down to your chest.

You gasp, “Oh…experiment away….” He groans as his hand comes up to grasp your breast. You let out soft moans. But he’s not there for long as he kisses his way down your abdomen until he comes to your center. His hands rub your thighs hard and you groan, closing your eyes. His fingers travel to your folds, stroking you. He can tell you’re ready for him. His tongue extends and he licks a line up to your clit.

You moan and your hips jerk against his face. Your mind is wiped clean. There’s only Sans and his tongue now, relentless and invading. And you are more than willing to let him in; your doors are wide open. His tongue is hot and cool and teases you, fanning the flames with every pass. You move your hand to his skull as he circles you with his tongue, alternating between your clit and your opening. The tension is building inside you and your hips are moving, desperate for any added friction. Sans glances up at you. You’re gone, taken over by pleasure, wild with heat. He loves the sight of you. It’s absolutely erotic and he loves knowing he can make you come undone. He moves faster, sensing that you’re almost there. His tongue slips inside you and he hears you moan his name loudly, causing him to growl. The vibrations push you over the edge and you gasp, abs clenching and back arching. Sans licks up one last time before sitting up in front of you, smirking. Your chest is heaving as you breathe hard and try to recover. You open your eyes and stare at Sans, tired smile lifting your lips.

You gasp out, “Were your…experiments successful?”

He grabs your hips and pulls you close, rubbing your twitching thighs. His self-satisfied grin is endearing, but the sight of him over you is enough to reawaken the familiar ache again.

“results were conclusive.” His eye glows a bit brighter as he continues, “but every good experiment should be repeatable.”

You smile as he bends forward and lays on top of you. Your hand comes up to his face and you kiss him, tongue skirting along his teeth. His dense bones dig into your body. In your haze, you think vaguely back to before, that you don’t think you could ever get used to it. Certainly never tire of it. Your heart is racing and you feel your soul again, filling you with a tingling warmth. Your arm moves and slides around his neck and you press against him with every breath you take.

He separates from you, groaning as he feels you slide against him. He kisses down your neck and rests there, brushing his hands up and down your body. He feels your soul burning and his is responding, magic running rampant through his bones. All he wants is you. You surround him, his senses overwhelmed.

The heat, your smoky scent, yielding flesh, hard bones. Too much but not nearly enough.

He almost loses control when he feels your hips thrust against him. He growls low in his chest, kissing your throat as he thrusts back into you. He hears your breath catch. He moves more and you start moaning, arching your back and meeting him. His tongue licks your neck once more before biting down on your shoulder. You gasp and your arm tightens around him. As you both move more, you start whispering his name in between pants.

“Yes, Sans….”

He growls again and bites harder, hips grinding into yours in earnest now. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel yourself get closer and closer to your mutual goal. You can’t think much of anything anymore except Sans. Only ever him. Your hand scrabbles at his back, finally gripping his ribs as you push against him. Your leg slides up on the sheets, a cool friction, and you raise it, hooking your knee over his hip bone. He releases your neck and rises to kiss you, tongue running along your own and your lips. His left arm comes up to rest above your head to anchor himself as his right drags down your side to your hitched thigh. He’s close too. He can feel you winding up, and he picks up the pace, placing his cheekbone against yours, fingers fisting in your hair.

He breathes out your name, “___...come for me….”

You inhale hard at his urging and close your eyes tight, the tension in you breaking as your orgasm wracks your body. You arch your back, tilt back your head and moan. Seeing you let go spurs Sans on to his own climax as well. He groans and presses into you. You both still and hold each other, riding out the pleasure together. It’s intense, all rational thought gone. There’s no place for it here when all the two of you can think and feel is each other. You finally come back down from your high and slump, out of breath. Sans lifts his head and kisses your cheek, lingering, feeling the heat of your flushed skin against his mouth. His other hand comes up to your face, cradling it. Your hand covers it, sliding smoothly over the bone. He runs his thumb along your jaw and you smile, kissing him.

“Man….”

He makes a satisfied sound in response. He rolls off of you onto his back with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. You turn onto your side towards him and find his hand with yours. His smile widens and his fingers wrap around them.

“Let’s uh…do that again sometime.”

He chuckles. “hell yeah.”

You both lay there for a while just relaxing in the morning light. Eventually you open your eyes and see Sans has fallen asleep again. His hold on your hand has slipped, phalanges limp. You gently disentangle them and get up out of bed with as much stealth you can muster. Sans doesn’t move an inch. You grab your shirt and tug it over your head. While naps are glorious, you should probably get up or else you won’t sleep very well the next night. You head downstairs to make some coffee for you both. On your way down, you open the curtains in your living room, letting in the daylight. You stand for a moment, basking in the glow, the sun’s heat kissing your skin not unlike the way Sans was earlier. Your lips lift into a small smile.

You head into the kitchen and start to make the coffee. You make sure to pull the kettle off before it whistles, not wanting to wake up Sans. You fix both your mugs, two in one hand, and walk carefully back upstairs. You tilt your head and smile as Sans’ sleeping form rises over the lip of the stairs, white bones in stark contrast with the dark sheets. He still hasn’t moved. Man, he sleeps like a rock.

You set both mugs on the nightstand, grabbing yours. You turn around and lean on the counter of your railing, looking down into your living room and the sidewalk just beyond your window. You breathe deep the scent of the coffee, blowing softly across the surface. You think about the eventful morning and it actually leaves you a little breathless. Not only from just how much fun and how _hot_ it was, but also from how intimate it felt. Feels. It _feels_. It’s real. That makes your heart race, and you smile, biting the rim of your mug, giddiness mixing with contentment.

The smell of coffee causes Sans to stir. His eyes are slow to open, and when he reaches out for you, he notices you’re not there. Confused, he turns his head and finally sees you. His concern disappears as he watches you. Your bent back is to him and you’re leaning on the railing with your coffee. Though you have a shirt on, he still gets a particularly great view of your curvy lower half. He focuses a bit more and he feels your soul resonate. It’s…happy. Glowing. It calls out, almost like it’s looking for the thing that’s made it feel this way. He smiles as he feels his soul respond, magic moving through him like the tides drawn by the moon. He sits up and reaches for the mug you’ve left for him.

You hear movement behind you, and you turn around to see Sans finally up, sipping from his mug. He’s staring at you from across the top of the cup, eyes lidded but pupils bright and eager. He extends his hand out to you in wordless invitation. You straighten and step towards him and the bed, setting your coffee down before taking his hand with your left. Your fingers wrap around each other, bone against skin. You fold your legs under you as you sit on the bed.

“thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Figured it would come in handy, especially for a lazybones.” You smirk at him. He chuckles, teasing, “well it’s not my fault ya wore me out.”

You shrug nonchalantly as you laugh. “Yeah, I know. I’m just _too_ amazing. You might just have to indulge in this awesomeness only sparingly.”

He laughs at that, taking another sip of his coffee. “was never really one to follow rules.”

You raise your eyebrow and bite your lip. “Oooh, what a rebel. Always liked bad boys.”

He winks at you, waggling his brow. “that’s me, bad to the bone.”

You laugh and yell, “There it is! Been _waiting_ for you to make that one.” You fall back, haphazardly laying across the covers. Sans is laughing at you. You stare at the ceiling and your fingers flit idly over the hard case of your cast, tracing the designs.

“so ya get that off this week right?”

“Mhmm, that’s the plan so far.”

He finishes his coffee. “cool. it’ll be interesting to see ya with two workin’ arms.”

You laugh, “Hey, it uh…kinda works.” You pause. “Not really.”

He chuckles and gets up from the bed, pulling on his shorts. He picks up his shirt and your panties, dropping them on your face. You laugh and shake them off, but thrust your hand out and snatch his shirt from his hand. You roll over on top of it, laughing into the covers. He chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets.

“ya seem to forget i can just teleport back to my room.” He hears your muffled groans and it makes him laugh even more.

“I didn’t think that far ahead, ok.”

“ya just need a leg up is all.”

You raise your feet. “Well stay on your toes, because the game is afoot.” He laughs and his hands start to tickle your legs. You squeal and begin wheezing in your laughter, turning over and throwing his shirt at his face. He barks out a laugh and stands, tugging it on. You catch your breath and pull on your own underwear. You point at him.

“No tickling.”

He shrugs, smirking. “told ya i wasn’t very good at followin’ rules.” You roll your eyes and head to your closet to grab your comfy sweats. After you pull them on, you walk back into your bedroom and find Sans already walking downstairs with your mugs. You follow him and stop as you come to your shelves holding your DVDs. You cross your arms as best you can as you scan the titles.

Sans calls from the kitchen, “want more coffee?”

You respond, not taking your eyes from the DVDs, “Yes, please.”

He walks back into the living room and sets the mugs on the coffee table, coming up beside you. He sticks his right hand in his pocket, but his left comes up to rest on your lower back underneath your shirt. The gesture causes you to smile and lean into him. He catches your grin and his fingers splay across your skin, pressing just a bit more. You reach out to the shelf and pluck a DVD from it, showing it to Sans.

“Ever seen this before?”

He takes it from you, turning it over and inspecting the cover. “the lion king…nope, can’t say i have.”

You take back the DVD enthusiastically and press it to your chest, a near-manic grin on your face. “Be prepared, because you’re about to watch one of my favorite movies of all time.”

The look on your face makes Sans laugh. Your unbridled excitement and eager innocence infecting him. You quickly put the DVD in and press play, tugging Sans by his hand onto the couch. You sit shoulder to shoulder and grab your coffee as the movie begins. You hum along with the songs as they come. About a third of the way in, the familiar string tremolo signals the stampede, sending shivers down your spine. You set down your empty mug and draw your legs up to your chest as you watch. You spare a glance at Sans. He’s equally invested, eye-sockets widening slightly as he sees the story unfold and Mufasa fall. The stampede finishes.

“Dad?”

Shitshitshit. This part never fails in making you cry. Every. Time. You raise your hand and lift the collar of your shirt over your mouth and nose as nonchalantly as possible. Smooth. He’ll never notice.

“Dad, c’mon. Ya gotta get up….”

Your heart moves to your throat. A few stray tears slip silently down your cheeks, dotting the fabric of your collar.

Sans notices.

He looks over to you and his brow furrows in concern when he sees your tears.

“hey, you ok?”

Your head swivels towards him, a sheepish expression crossing your face like you’ve been caught. You shake your shirt loose with a weak chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just like this part. It gets to me.”

“but it makes you cry?”

“That’s how you know it’s good.” You take his chin and move his head back forward. Scar is showing up. “Now watch.” You drop your hand but not before giving his jaw a soft stroke. He chuckles and lifts his right arm, laying it behind your shoulders. It’s a comforting weight and his hand caresses you, pressing you into his side. You smile, wiping your tears, and lean into him as you watch the rest of the movie.

As the credits roll, you turn and slap his leg. “So what’d ya think?”

He grins at you. “i’d be lion if i said i didn’t like it.” His response makes you laugh and he grins wider, proud. He raises his eyebrow though.

“but geez, that’s a kid’s movie? some heavy stuff.”

Your laughs increase as you shrug your shoulders. “Yeah. But it makes for great movies. I’ll have to show you more sometime.” He smiles and his fingers tighten themselves into your shirt.

“i’d like that.”

You lean close and place a soft kiss against his cheekbone. He makes a contented noise from inside his chest. Your lips linger, skin tugging along bone. You part them as you ask a question. “Speaking of time, when is it?” You feel the bones of his face lift as he grins, digging into his pocket for his phone. He takes a look. His face falls and he groans low in his throat.

“almost time for me to go.” A small thread of sadness weaves its way into your heart, but you think about all the fun you had today and actively try to shake it off. You’ll see him again.

You instead quickly attack Sans’ face and plant a big kiss on his cheek with a loud, “MUAH!” He startles but barks out a laugh when he recovers, pulling you into a close hug.

“That’s better. No being sad.” Chuckling, he leans back and kisses your smiling lips. Happiness and that now-familiar and comforting clean snow and pine scent washes over you, replacing the sadness. As you pull back, he brings his hands up to each side of your face, thumbs skimming the apples of your cheeks.

“i’ll see ya again soon.”

You nod against his hands, resolute. You meet him halfway, placing one more kiss against his mouth. He presses back, deepening it. He feels your hand come up to grasp his elbow, fingers grazing the bones of his arm. His mind is a little cloudy from you, and he knows that if you both go on any longer, he won’t be leaving this couch. Neither of you will. With a resigned sigh, he separates from you and stands up. As he does, he brushes his mouth against your forehead. The sweet, content smile on your face makes his soul ache and he already can’t wait for the next time you can both sleep next to each other. He steps back, clear of any objects and you watch him from the couch.

“Tell Papyrus hey for me. I’ll be textin’ ya.” You blow him a kiss and rest your chin on your hand.

He grins and winks at you. When it opens his pupil ignites. “’til then.” You smile as he disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update! YAY! Hope you guys enjoy and as always, thank you for the wonderful support and comments :D
> 
> Bumble: http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/


	21. Freedom

The week passes by quickly once you start up your classes again. In the middle of the week, you text Alphys while you’re on campus so you can meet her for lunch. You walk out of the building you spend the most time in, it’s brick façade plastered with elegant scrollwork and emblems of art. It’s really a beautiful building, but you are more than happy to be on the outside once in a while. You begin your journey across campus to the physics and engineering portion. The sky is clear and it’s not too hot; large sycamores and oaks towering as high as some of the buildings. They throw huge, shimmering shadows, their leaves rustling in the breeze. The stylized architecture gives way to more structured and practical edifices. That signals your entrance into the world of the sciences. Has Sans ever been to the University before? You resolve to bring him and show him around. You think, and conspiratorially hope, that maybe it’ll spark his interest.

You snap a picture and send it to Sans with the caption:

**_\- Riddle me this. Science can’t be as unfeeling as the buildings that teach it, right?_ **

_\- nah, the fact u feel at all is cuz of science_

You laugh and nod in agreement. He’s got a point. Your phone dings again.

_\- i have lots of examples_

You cock your eyebrow.

**_\- Oh yeah?_ **

_\- yeah_

_\- when we hold hands. science._

You giggle at his playfulness. You scroll through your texts with Alphys, looking for her office number as you step into the engineering building. You go back to your conversation with Sans.

_\- when we kiss. science._

_\- when i make u gasp. science._

Your loud laughs ricochet off the sterile white walls, and you slap your hand over your mouth to stay quiet. You almost can’t believe Sans right now. You look back down and immediately blush as you see his new text.

_\- when i make u come for me. science._

**_\- SANS_** : You tap hastily into your phone as you step in the elevator.

_\- when u blush from embarrassment. science._

Good lord almighty with this skeleton. But geez if he doesn’t make you laugh.

**_\- You are too much. You gotta stop, I’m meeting Alphys_ **

_\- ya know, im not sure ur gettin it. just gonna have to give u a lesson when u get home._

**_\- Yeah you do that sweetcheeks_ **

You chuckle as the elevator rumbles to a stop and you step out into the hall. Your footfalls echo in tandem with the several other students you pass. You finally come to an office in the corner. The name tag reads:

**Dr. Alphys, Mechanical Engineering Department**

Bingo. You smile and knock, peeking through the vertical window. Alphys looks up from her desk and she grins as she notices you, making her way through piles of books and machines to the door.

She opens it. “___, I’m g-glad you found it alright!”

You laugh and give her a hug. “Piece of cake.”

She ushers you inside and you look around as you settle into a chair. It’s not very big, but it’s a fair size. The shelves are lined with a wide assortment of comics, manga, textbooks, and spare mechanical parts. You smile again when you notice several sweet pictures of her and Undyne on her desk.

“I like your office. And I dig that awesome nameplate _Dr._ Alphys.”

She laughs and adjusts her glasses as you both pull out your lunches. “Y-yes, I like it here as well.” Her eyes are bright behind the lenses as she takes in the room.

“And people have been treating you alright?”

“Oh yes, actually! The u-university wasn’t very p-pleasant at first, b-but the engineering department has been more than accommodating. Science comes first, a-and as l-long as you have something to contribute, they respect you.”

“I bet you’ve wowed them all.”

“W-well I wouldn’t go so far as to say t-that….” But she puffs up a bit, and it’s obvious she’s proud of what she’s done so far. You are so happy for her.

You give her a thumbs up, grinning broad. “There it is, be proud. You’re amazing.”

She blushes but laughs, slurping up her noodles. “So h-how are things with you?”

“They’re good, just going to class. You know how it goes.” You take a bit of your sandwich when she speaks up.

“So y-you and Sans are together, right?”

Your eyes widen a bit as you blush and chuckle weakly. “Yeah, we are.”

Her eyes light up, thoroughly excited grin breaking across her face, engrossed in the conversation. “And he _saved_ you from a car crash?”

You laugh, giggling at her enthusiasm and your own semi-embarrassment, and take another bite of your sandwich. “Well, it was him and Papyrus, and I didn’t know them at first…”

If those details were important, she brushes them off, sighing with a faraway look in her eye, “That’s so romantic though.”

Your laughter increases at her insistence. “I guess if you look back. Can’t remember much of it though. I do get my cast off this week, so that’s cool,” you hedge, trying to divert the conversation.

She glances at your cast, derailed. “T-that’s great! I know Undyne’s been wanting to train w-with you.”

You point the crust of your sandwich at her before eating it. “Now you and Undyne, _that’s_ romantic. How did you both meet?”

She blushes, but a soft look crosses her face as she gazes lovingly at one of the pictures on her desk.

“It was in the Underground. We would watch anime together, but I was too afraid to talk to her about my feelings. She overheard me confess to Frisk and…it’s history from there.”

She smiles, a wide, genuine one. It’s so obvious how much they love each other, and it warms your heart. Whenever she talks about Undyne, she doesn’t stutter at all. There’s hope for this world if such love exists, you think.

You and Alphys talk the rest of the hour until it’s time for you to go. You step out of her office, adjusting your backpack.

“Thanks for sharing your lunchtime. This was great.”

“A-anytime!”

“I’ll probably see you and Undyne sooner rather than later. But have a good rest of your day!”

“Thanks, y-you too!”

You wave and walk back to the elevator, hearing the door click shut behind you. Thankfully, you don’t have any more classes today so you make the slow trek back to your truck on the other side of campus. You don’t hurry. The weather is beautiful and the breeze whirls around you, stirring up your hair and mood. You stick your earbuds in your ears, letting the music pass the time away.

When you make it back home, you spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on reading and videos. It’s dark out now and you’re laying on your bed, propped up by pillows, reading a book of short stories. Your fingers slide across the textured paper lovingly. There’s nothing like the physicality of turning pages. You hear a familiar, faint pop and look up to find Sans standing at the end of your bed. His grin stretches across his face, illuminated by his burning eye. You see his blue tongue snake out and lick his canines. You cock an eyebrow and bite your lip as you smile. You were wondering when he’d show up. He removes his hands from his pockets and starts crawling on the bed toward you. Slow, like a predator that has locked onto his prey. Oh, you don’t mind that look at all. He’s straddling your legs when he sits up, plucking the book from your hands and setting it down on your night table.

“who’s ready for a science lesson?”

\-------------

Later in the week, you wake up the day of your hospital appointment, excited for the prospect that you might get your cast off today. You hurry to get dressed and finally arrive at the hospital. The nurse tells you to wait until they call your name and you sit not altogether patiently in the stiff chairs. Hospitals in general give you the heebie-jeebies, but waiting rooms seem even worse. At least in the main rooms a semblance of sterility is achieved. Waiting rooms seem like a cesspool; a filter for wounds and germs and disease that the hospital has to sift through with thick rubber gloves for protection. After waiting for what feels like an eternity, but is actually only like 45 minutes, you’re finally called back into an examination room. The nurse does some initial tests, like blood pressure, weight, and the like before she leaves you to wait some more. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket and are about to see who it is when your doctor walks in.

Dr. Turner greets you, “Hello, ___. Good to see you again. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good actually. Hoping I can get this cast off today.”

She chuckles and sets down the chart. “Well we’ll take some x-rays and view them immediately to see if that is indeed possible. Let’s give your head a look first.” She puts on some gloves.

She looks you over and immediately moves to examine your head. Her eyes widen as she traces the small scar that’s all that’s left of your injury.

She looks at you pointedly as she peels her gloves off and puts them in the waste bin. “Last time I checked, your head was cut clean open. I know. I sewed it back together myself. Unless you’re superhuman, which would be pretty incredible, how did this happen?”

Internally, you cringe a little. You probably should have told her about that before she looked, but there’s no way around it now.

“Unfortunately, I’m not superhuman, but my friends are monsters. Healing magic I think she said?”

Dr. Turner nods, not completely surprised. She has to have heard of all the medical possibilities the monsters could provide. Hell, there are even some working in the hospital right now.

“I’ve heard of what healing magic can do, but haven’t seen it in person myself. I’ll have to look more into it. I’m just glad they were able to help you in recovering.” She’s recovered now, all business. “Now let’s take a look at that arm.”

She leads you into another room and sets everything up for x-rays. It doesn’t take long and as you go back to wait in your exam room, she heads off to get them developed. You pull out your phone quickly to see who texted you earlier. It’s Sans.

_\- need me to go to the hospital with ya?_

You smile and respond, touched by his offer. You had thought about telling him when your appointment was, and had considered asking him to come with you. But…something stopped you. You don’t want him to feel beholden to you, just because you’re together. Plus, he’d have to skip work for it, and that seems like asking a lot when your relationship is casual. _Right?_ You ask yourself, almost trying to convince yourself of your own reasoning. ‘Casual’ just doesn’t seem to cut it anymore.

**_\- But you have work_ **

He texts back fairly immediately.

_\- i can take a break_

You are about to reply but Dr. Turner walks back in. You’re anxious to see your results. She puts them up and flicks on the backlight. She turns to you and smiles.

“Looks like you get that cast off today.”

You laugh and throw your arm in the air, yelling, “Yes!”

She chuckles as a nurse walks in with materials to cut off your cast. It’s all so weird, since you’ve never been through this before, but they make quick work of it. Once it’s off, you really look at your arm. You grimace. It’s white and sickly looking. The cool air feels freezing against your skin, attacking it from all sides.

Dr. Turner smiles knowingly at your expression. “It looks bad now, but it won’t take long for it to seem normal again. Make sure to avoid lifting heavy objects for a couple of weeks. Start off small to build your strength back up. I'll set you up with a physical therapist to get you back on track.” She goes on to give you a list of exercises to do every day to help with stamina, grip, and leverage of your elbow, wrist, and shoulder and what to expect with P.T.

She shakes your hand, chuckling. “I hope I don’t have to see you again.”

You laugh as well. “Thank you again.”

When she leaves, you turn to the nurse, asking, “Is there a bathroom where I can wash my arm on the way out?”

She nods, and points you to the nearest bathroom. You thank her as you head to where she indicated. You step inside and immediately go to the sink. Your arm feels so strange and exposed now, and you can’t get over how odd the air feels on it after so long. It doesn’t smell great either as you wrinkle your nose. You get a bunch of soap and scrub down your arm gently, then wash it off, repeating the process a couple of times. You shrug. It’s a little better, comparatively speaking. You extend and flex your elbow, but it doesn’t go very far. Worry instinctively raises its head, but you push it down. Your muscles, in their disuse, must have constricted. You just have to make sure to do your exercises religiously to regain that flexibility. As you walk out to your truck, you curl your hand into and out of a fist and continue to stretch your wrist and elbow. This’ll take some getting used to.

You get into your truck and come up with a brilliant plan. You want to surprise Sans. You grin and drive off to the park. When you park, you adjust your sling over your jacket, making it look like you still have your cast on. You get out and start walking, strolling through the midday sun, the breeze whipping your hair and the falling leaves, making a soft cacophony. You cross the bridge and see Sans in the same position as when you last came here, feet up and chair back. The sight sends your heart tingling and your lips to smile. You walk up to the napping skeleton.

“I’d like a nice cream, please.”

His eyes snap open and his grin lifts as he notices you. He puts his feet down and leans forward. His pupils are bright and playful as he looks you over. You melt under his gaze.

“one nice cream for the beautiful customer, comin’ right up.” You laugh at his compliment. He retrieves the package and is about to hand it to you, when he stops. He gives you a sly grin.

“prices have changed.”

You raise one eyebrow, curious at his cheerful dubiousness. “Oh yeah?”

He nods. “they’ve been raised to one kiss.”

You tilt your head and feign dismay, patting your pockets with your left hand. “I coulda sworn I had some spare kisses lyin’ around.” You tap your chin, looking around, brow furrowed in concentration. Sans looks on in good-natured mirth. You raise your finger in exclamation.

“Aha! I know just where I put them.”

You bend forward and reach out with your right hand, gently grabbing the collar of his hoodie and coaxing him over the counter. His eyes widen as he finally notices your arm.

He exclaims, confused, “wha--?”

But you don’t give him the chance to finish that thought, because you press your lips against his mouth in a tender kiss. He makes a surprised noise, but doesn’t put up much of a fight. A younger guy walks by with his dog and when he sees you kissing the sense out of Sans, he yells, “WOO, YEAH GET IT SKELEDUDE!”

You burst out into peals of laughter and Sans laughs with you, blue blush dusting his cheekbones. You take the nice cream from his hand as you pull away, smiling mischievously. He sits back down as you take off your sling and unwrap your nice cream. Sans watches you with interest, eyes stuck on your right arm, his own hands tucked into his hoodie pockets.

You take a lick of your dessert as you lean onto the countertop. “’Sup.”

He shrugs and winks at you. “chillin’. see ya got your cast off.”

You smile and nod. “Yep, it feels weird, but _so_ good.”

He leans forward onto the counter and rests his chin on his hand. He offers genuinely, “i coulda gone with ya if ya wanted.”

You shrug, feeling a little guilty. “Didn’t want to bother you.” Even to you that excuse feels weak. Sans picks up on it, honestly curious why you didn’t ask him to go with you. He pushes it down for now. He flashes you a flirty smile instead. “i like it when ya bother me.”

You take another lick and tease, “Well now I can bother you twice as much.” You wiggle your fingers at him.

He laughs and holds out his hand, silently asking for your right. You move closer and lay it gently on his, wincing slightly as you extend your elbow. His fingers wrap around your soft skin, careful and tender.

He looks up at you in concern. “does it hurt still?”

“Only if I overextend. My muscles and joints aren’t used to moving after so long, so I gotta be careful for a little while. Build my strength and flexibility back up.”

He nods and pushes up the sleeve of your jacket. He lightly rubs the muscles of your forearm. You hum. That feels very, very nice.

“I’m glad it’s off though.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze, smiling up at you. “me too.”

“You know what this means though.”

“hmm?”

You lean in closer and wink. “Celebration.” He grins at you and you think his left pupil flashes blue for a second. You smirk and pull back, finishing your nice cream. Sans is still holding your hand.

“So ya get off soon?”

“yup.”

“I didn’t see Papyrus’ car. Guessin’ he dropped you off?” Sans nods. “Cool. I’ll take you home.”

He grins and sits back, letting go of your hand for now. “thanks.”

You turn around and rest your back against the counter as you look off towards the lake. You slowly extend your arm with your palm straight out. You grab your fingers with your other hand and gently bend them upwards towards you then downwards, stretching the muscles in your forearm. Sans watches you, curious. He wonders how long it’ll be for your arm to be back to the way it was. It seems your bones are fine, but it’s your muscles now that need to be taken care of. He’s not sure what he can do, but he’ll help you in any way he can. He’ll definitely have to be careful around it. He thinks wryly about Papyrus and Undyne. And make sure they are too.

When the sun starts getting low in the sky, he stands and steps out of the stand, closing it up. He circles around to your side and gingerly grasps your right hand.

“ready?”

You nod and wrap your hand around his fingers. He can tell that your grip strength is not the same as your left. You’ll get there though, he has no doubt. You both start walking back to your truck, enjoying each other’s company and the late afternoon weather. You tilt your head back and breathe deep, the air clean and cold in your lungs. You love evenings like this. Especially with the people you care about as you look over to Sans, who you see looking back at you smiling.

“What?”

He shakes his head, but his eye-lights are bright. You squeeze his hand. He loves those moments where you fall into yourself and it’s just you and the object of your undivided appreciation. When you let go. He wishes he could do that more often. But at least he gets to see it from you as he tries to learn in the meantime. You’re a pretty good teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update! Y'all are awesome, I love you, and I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Look at things! Ask me shit! : ollyollyoxenfreemlitbm.tumblr.com


	22. Telling Stories

When you pull up to the brothers' house, Sans says with an easygoing smile, “come on inside. i’m sure paps will be happy to see you too.”

Your smile gets bigger as you follow him to the door. He opens it and you both step inside. You can hear Papyrus humming loudly in the kitchen and it causes you to giggle to yourself.

“hey bro.”

“Sans? Why did you not just teleport inside?”

“brought a friend. gave me a ride.”

Papyrus strides through the living room and when you enter his vision, he yells, “HUMAN! WELCOME BACK!” He looks you over and his eye-sockets widen as he notices your cast-less arm. He points and exclaims, “HUMAN! YOUR BROKEN ARM IS BROKEN NO MORE! YOUR ARMOR HAS BEEN REMOVED!”

You nod and laugh. “Yep, getting better all the time.”

He laughs and moves quickly to hug you. It might be a little TOO quick and forceful and your arm is still TOO weak to handle all of Papyrus just yet. Just as you brace yourself for impact and turn your body to favor your left side, Sans steps immediately in front of you and puts his hands out. He grins lazily up at Papyrus who has stopped with a surprised expression on his face.

“woah bro. their arm isn’t paps-strong just yet, so be careful.”

Papyrus nods his understanding, determined. Sans steps back and he moves at a slower pace to give you a gentle but warm hug. You wrap both your arms around his body and squeeze as hard as you are able to. He pulls back and gives you an ecstatic smile.

“I am glad you are getting better human! Undyne and I will help you train to get stronger!” You laugh to cover your mild worry.

“Thanks Papyrus. I’ll be better in no time, no worries. Especially with you guys to help.”

He ushers you inside and heads to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “This is perfect, YOU SHALL HAVE SPAGHETTI WITH US.” You lean towards Sans and whisper to him, “Thanks for that.”

He chuckles and his hand comes up to the small of your back, fingers brushing just enough to send shivers down your spine. “no problem.” He follows you into the kitchen. You both sit down at the table and watch as Papyrus finishes up cooking and sets the table. He places the plates down with gusto and says proudly, “ENJOY.”

You grin and reply, “Thanks Papyrus, this looks great.”

Sans smiles too. “thanks bro. bone-appetit.”

You duck your head and try to suppress your laughs as you catch the ridiculous expression on Papyrus’ face as he glares at Sans.

“So how’s work, Papyrus?”

He puffs up. “Very good! I love to motivate the people who come in!”

You smile, without an inkling of doubt. “I bet you’re really great at it.”

“Yes, I am pretty great as you say. You should come by sometime and Undyne and I can train with you!”

“I’d like that. I need to start swimming again anyway.”

He claps his hands, even more excited now. “That is a wonderful idea! I did not know you could swim!”

“me either.” You glance at Sans, who’s leaning back in his chair, eyes half-closed as he smiles at you.

“Yep, I’m pretty decent at it. I’ll show you guys sometime.”

Papyrus stands suddenly and poses dramatically, chair wobbling its discontent. “FANTASTIC!” For not liking puns, Papyrus’ comedic timing is just perfect sometimes and it tickles you, making you laugh loudly. He picks up your plates and ushers you and Sans into the living room while he cleans up the kitchen. Sans sits on the couch with a heavy thump. You listen to the chattering sounds of the TV and bustling of Papyrus in the kitchen as you stroll around the living room. Your eyes rove the shelves laden with pictures. A soft smile lifts your lips as you take in the memories; laughing at the candid ones, eyes crinkling in adoration at the sweet ones. Most of them are of Papyrus, Alphys, and Undyne. Sans is present sometimes, but not in others. He’s there, just behind the lens you assume. All of them give you a sense of warmth, a sense of the brothers as the kind and unceasingly interesting friends they are.

Papyrus comes up behind you. He looks over your shoulder, towering over you like a friendly giant. You tilt your head back to ask, “Which one’s your favorite?”

Papyrus picks you up in a hug that leaves you breathless; from shock, happiness, the tight grip or a combination, you’re not sure.

“All of them!” He shouts. “And we shall have to take some with you in them as well! Right, Sans?”

You hear Sans drawl from his place on the couch, “i _shutter_ to think of not having some photos of all of us.” You start to chuckle but it spirals into a coughing fit as soon as your lungs figure out their holding capacity has been halved. Papyrus hastily puts you down so you can catch your breath. You flash him a smile and a reassuring thumbs up in between coughs. He relaxes and moves to the couch to look down at Sans.

“Brother, I am going to go to bed early as I have to be up early to meet Undyne.”

“sure. want a story?”

“YES!” He thrusts his hand out to you as he offers excitedly, “Friend, join us! Sans is great at telling stories!”

“I’d love to.” You say as you take his hand in yours. You’re tugged down the hall by an enthusiastic Papyrus, Sans ambling along behind you. Once inside his room, you get two chairs and set them by Papyrus’ rad bed while he gets ready. You take the chair near the foot of his bed and watch Sans pluck a book from the shelf, thumbing through the worn pages, eyes darting across the text. He plops down on the chair, flashing you a casual smile. Papyrus and yourself both settle in, waiting in anticipation for Sans to start. You’re curious and excited. He clears his throat and begins.

You listen. But it’s so much more than just listening. It’s seeing. It’s feeling. Because Sans is damn good at storytelling. He speaks with a practiced ease, deep voice caressing the air or punching it in time with the dialogue. Normally, Sans doesn’t move very much, but here, he’s another person. Another person for his brother. His gestures are well-timed and expository, emphasizing to astound and relay. You can’t help but be reeled in. You’re a fish in a net, a bug caught in his web. Happily, you’d say, just to witness him. When he’s done and made sure Papyrus is asleep, he closes the book, cutting off the fantasy he’s created. You blink and notice that you’d been leaning forward the whole time, eagerly eating up his creation. You find yourself a bit disappointed that he’s done. He looks over to you, smile shy but evidently satisfied at your expression. You throw your hands up and mouth to him, “WOW.” His smile rocks to one side as you both get up, returning the chairs and closing the door to Papyrus’ room after you exit.

You walk out into the hallway and now you speak up. “Geez, Sans, that was…wonderful.”

He shrugs. “nah, just readin’ is all.”

“It was _so_ much more than that. Papyrus was right; you’re great at storytelling.”

“well, i try.”

“You do more than try. You freaking _succeed_ , my sweet Sans.”

He smiles at you, extremely pleased at your reaction even if he doesn’t show the true extent of it. He takes your hand and asks, “wanna sleep over?”

You smile back. “Sure. Already here so why not.” He chuckles and leads the way to his room. You both get ready for bed, you taking off your jeans and bra and Sans taking off his hoodie and shirt. You slip under the covers and curl into a ball in a pathetic attempt to conserve your body heat from the cool sheets. Sans laughs and slides in next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“cold?”

You snuggle closer to him. “Kinda.”

His arms tighten and he says, “well maybe this’ll warm ya up.” He brings his hand under your chin and lifts your face to his. He kisses you hard and he was right, you definitely feel yourself warming up. You make a contented noise in the back of your throat and you bring up your hand to place it on his face. He smiles and pulls away, leaving you a little dazed. You look up at him and smile.

“Foolproof warming method.”

He feigns seriousness. “only use in emergencies.”

Your fingers idly stroke his cheekbone and jaw. “Well, to warn you, I’m pretty prone to hypothermia.”

He leans closer, his respirations warm against your face. “then don’t worry, i’m here to help.” He kisses you again. You return it, both of your arms drawing each other close. His hand comes up to comb through your hair, placing smaller kisses along your jaw as you lay together. He feels your arms wrapped around his chest, both of them. His hand traces your shoulder-blade, coming to rest heavy and comforting on your right arm. It leads his mind to a question he asked himself at the park earlier.

“so how come ya didn’t ask me to go with you to the hospital?” You make a face. You knew you had provided a sorry excuse, even if it did have some truth to it. He doesn’t sound mad or anything like that though. He’s honestly curious.

You respond, voice quiet and forlorn more from your own guilt than anything he said, “I didn’t want you to think you had to.”

He catches your tone and pulls back to look at you. He’s surprised to see your face drawn and sad. His hand disentangles from your hair to lay on your face.

“i didn’t ask you to upset you, you know that right? i just wondered is all.” You nod and look down, thinking and trying to sort through your thoughts. Sans watches you patiently, thumb stroking your cheek.

“I just…really like you and didn’t want to make you feel obligated and like we’re on different pages of how we see…us. If that makes sense. It probably doesn’t. I’m bad with words right now…,” you whine, frustrated.

Sans’ smile is kind as he chuckles. “i offer because i want to. i was only half-teasing earlier when i said i like it when you bother me. i really enjoy spending any kind of time together.” He pulls you close. His tone lowers somewhat and his pupils burn in earnest. “but, i think…we both know this might be a little more than just casual attraction now…. am i wrong?”

You’re wide-eyed, staring into his. Your soul burns with unsurprised realization and acceptance. He’s not wrong. You cover his hand with yours and bring it down over your chest, right above your pounding heart. He can feel it. Oh wow, can he feel it. He can almost see the blood rushing through like a flood, a rising tide. He closes his eyes and _looks_ harder. Your soul is just as active, pulsing with life and love and a different kind of magic instead of blood, making the bones of his hand tingle.

“Sans….” He opens his eyes back up. “You’re not wrong. I…,” you struggle for the words, “I don’t know a lot. Like, a shit ton of things. But I do know that I care for you. Much more than you probably know, and much more than I can adequately articulate.” You’re still unhappy with how you’re conveying your feelings, but the word you’re searching for, you’re all at once desperate for and frightened of. You don’t know if you can drop a bomb like that just yet. But you’re severely tempted just from the look on Sans’ face. It’s an expression that makes you ache, sweet and deep.

Sans’ arm tightens and he presses his hand with slight force into your chest. He hears you gasp as your soul responds to the magic surging through his bones. His fingers twitch. He wants so much to draw it out. Show you how beautiful it is. How beautiful you are. _Feel_ for himself how beautiful you are. But he grits his teeth and resists. Not until _you_ want him to. His hand moves up, skirting along your flushed skin to lay tenderly on your neck and jaw.

“i care for you so much. so much, ___.” His words fall short of the depth of his feelings for you. He hopes you can hear how sincere he is. It feels like he’s on the precipice of something huge and nameless; not quite to the summit, but miles away from _care_. He understands your frustration.

You exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. The multitude of heady emotions sends you reeling and you kiss Sans madly. He returns it with equal abandon, hands and mouths roaming late into the night.

\------------

You’re lying on your front when you wake, having pulled away from Sans at some point in the night. You rub your eyes, trying to figure out what exactly has woken you up. You hear and feel a lot of movement. Sheets shift against each other, disrupting the silence. You turn your head to Sans and you realize it’s coming from him. You lift yourself up, concerned now.

His brow and eyes are creased, and you think you see small flashes of blue escape from his left eye. It’s the only illumination besides the muted moonlight dripping through the small crevices of his curtains. It’s not calm though. It’s ominous, making the shadows stand out at attention. He’s almost thrashing, turning his head and mumbling incoherently. His skull is dotted with blue globules of sweat. His hands are gripping the covers, knuckles tight. You hear him grinding his teeth.

What should you do? Obviously try to calm him, but should you wake him up? You can’t remember if nightmares play by sleep-walking rules. Whatever you do, you need to be careful. You don’t want him to startle, he’s already wound up enough. You lift yourself up onto your knees, crossing your legs as you go, and face him. You call out his name.

“Sans. Hey, it’s ok, wake up.” He doesn’t seem to notice.

You raise your voice only a little louder, mindful of Papyrus sleeping down the hall.

“Sans.” No response. You frown and lift your left hand and move to place it on his skull. You’re more forceful now, you’re starting to get worried and it seems like he’s getting worse. You can practically hear him growling. You don’t care now; he needs to wake up.

“ _Sans_.”

Your fingers brush his skull.

As soon as your hand touches him, his eye flares to life and his hand shoots out, crooked and hooked like claws, to grab your wrist roughly. Your eyes spring wide in one sharp instance of fright. You fall back as he sits up quickly, wrenching your arm away from him. His eye is wild and his canines show as he snarls. You hiss in pain, wanting for all the world to jerk your arm out of his grip, but you try to stay calm. He’s still in the nightmare, trying to wake up.

Panic colors your voice without your permission. “Sans! _Wake. Up.”_ His eye flits around the room until it finally comes to rest on your grimacing face. His sockets widen in confusion. His eye extinguishes immediately as the confusion transforms into horror when he finally notices his tight hold on your wrist. He peels his hand away and you gasp at the change in pressure. That’s going to bruise.

“___? what? shit, _shit no_ , nonono. oh god.” He runs his hand over his skull, his fingers making small clicking sounds from his shaking. He reaches for you, pupils so dim they’re almost absent from his sockets, tears rimming them.

“Sans…,” you whisper as your hands grasp his arms, trying to console and reassure him. The gesture is two-fold. You’re shaking as well.

He pulls you up onto his lap, arms gentle but sturdy around you as if he’s afraid you’ll break. He presses his head to your shoulder as he rocks you. You feel his tears wet your shirt and you hear his choked murmurs. They tear at your heart; they sound so broken.

“i’m sorry…i’m so sorry.”

You wrap your arms around him and whisper to him, “Shh, it’s ok. I’m ok and you’re awake.”

He weakly shakes his head. “you’re not ok, i hurt you.”

It takes some effort to pull back, because his arms are like a vice around you, but you do and place both hands on the side of his face, wiping the cyan tears from them. You smile softly, urging him to look at you. He resists at first, not wanting to meet your gaze, ashamed. But he does, finally, eyes torn and tortured.

“I’m really ok. It happens, nightmares are scary things. You were asleep and reacting, I probably should have been a little more careful.” He’s about to say something, but you place your finger against his mouth. You continue, voice strong and devoid of the panic you felt earlier. “If you even begin to think that I shouldn’t be here just because of this, then you’re _so_ wrong. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you. I _care_ about you. Capiche?”

His pupils start to come back and he stares intensely at you. His arms tighten and his fingers dig into your sides.

“what did i do to deserve you?”

You roll your eyes and smile at him, nudging his head with yours. “That implies you weren’t deserving of things in the first place.”

He closes his eyes and a few stray tears roll down his cheekbones. Why would he be? After what he’s done? But you wipe the tears and his doubts away too.

“Listen to me. You’re wonderful and just because bad things happen doesn’t negate the good things ok? I’m here, you’re here, and we’re together.” After a moment, he lifts his head back up and kisses you tenderly. His hand comes up to rest on yours, pressing it to his face as he looks at you.

“i…. thank you.”

“Of course, I’m here for you. Did you want to talk about it at all?” You don’t think he will, but you want to give him the option anyway. You’re a little surprised as he responds, “can’t remember much. but paps and others were…gone.” You frown, a somber expression on your face. That’s all he says, but you know he means much more than they were just missing. You’ve had those same kinds of nightmares before. Your thumb brushes his mouth.

“Well, it’s over. Paps is down the hall, safe and sound. It wasn’t real.” Sans sighs. You don’t know that it _was_ real. In so many other timelines, it was real. He’s not lying to you entirely. He did dream that. But he’s omitting circumstances. He wants so badly to tell you. The urge eats him up ravenously from the inside out. He just doesn’t know how. Should he do it now? He wishes someone could give him advice on what to do, but he’s the only fucking person to be aware of it, besides Frisk. He decides, not yet. _Just a little more time with you before you run screaming_ , he thinks wryly. You wouldn’t do that…probably. But the situation makes him nervous, nevertheless.

You watch Sans as he seems to fight with himself. You may not be able to know what people are thinking, but you think you can read them pretty well. You kiss him gently and he returns it. When you pull away, you look at him square in the eyes.

“Remember what I said. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I’m not going to push you. You’ll do it when you’re ready, ok?” He stares back and nods. He holds your face and kisses your forehead, murmuring against it.

“i will. i promise.” And he means it. He doesn’t usually like to make promises, but now that there’s nothing holding him back anymore up on the surface and you’re here, he will. His arms drop to hug you to him again as he lays you both back down. He feels you relax and fall into a restless slumber. He takes your left hand and covers it with his right, cradling it against his chest. He curls around you protectively. You sleep on. But for him, sleep is slow to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have too many fluffy pillows. *Takes a couple and the sheets too*
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	23. To Forget*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit stuff in this chapter, wee bairns

Sans wakes up early the next morning exhausted. It’s always that way the morning after a nightmare. He just can’t sleep well after it. And especially not after what happened this time. But as he sits up gently and removes your limp arm from him, he looks down at you and his soul feels this strange thick mixture of fondness along with a hot wash of shame and guilt. He’s grateful you were there, even though he _hates_ that he hurt you at all. His mind starts falling into a sneaky hate spiral. What must you think of him? Can’t even keep his shit together, godheisamonster….

He shakes his head clear.

He doesn’t know your whole soul, yet at least, but he _does_ know you would never think that. Not after what you admitted to him last night. He tries to focus on that.

He wants to look at your wrist, but your body is on top of it. His hand moves to stroke your cheek and shift your hair from your face. His frown lessens as he gets up from the bed. He pulls on a shirt and heads out to the kitchen to make coffee. You both need it.

As he enters the kitchen, he spots a note from Papyrus.

**SANS AND HUMAN**

**GONE TO TRAIN WITH UNDYNE**

**SPAGHETTI’S IN FRIDGE**

Sans’ dismal mood lifts as he sees the smiley faces Papyrus drew all over the note. He places it back on the table and starts up the coffee machine. Once done, he carries two mugs back into his room. He sets yours down on the nightstand and sits on the bed next to you. You’ve rolled over onto your back in the meantime. He can see your wrist now. They’re faint, but he can make out the bruises in the shape of his fingers and it nearly breaks him. He hangs his head in his hand for a moment, trying to keep it together. His soul grieves, forcing him to reach out, fingers stroking the darker skin. He starts when your other hand comes up to grasp his. His eyes flick up to yours.

They look tired, but you smile and reassure him groggily, “It looks worse than it actually is.”

He gives you a wry, and only slightly tortured smile in return. “it looks pretty bad to me.”

Your hand squeezes his. “I’m alright. I promise.” He lifts up your wrist and places small kisses along the skin, his remorse and guilt pervading his every thought and action. You almost miss his murmurs, the only tell being the vibrations you feel along your wrist.

“i’m so sorry, ___.”

You remove your hand from his and place it against his cheekbone. “Hey. Please don’t be. I’m really ok. I swear.” He closes his eyes and leans into your hand, still frowning but giving a small nod.

You hum and yawn, stretching. “Look at it this way, at least it wasn’t my right one.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised and grim expression set on his face. “not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

You shrug and smile back softly. “Lemonade out of lemons?” You look at the mug on the nightstand and sit up. “Or delicious coffee out of coffee beans?”

He rolls his eyes and one side of his mouth lifts up in a semblance of a smile as he hands your mug to you. “coffee is still bitter.”

You chuckle, teasing. “Details, details.” You scoot back against the headboard and Sans idly strokes your leg as you both sit in companionable silence. You drain your mug and place it back on the nightstand. You arch your back and stretch your arms above your head, making sure not to push your right too much. You exhale and smile at Sans, putting your arm through its exercises.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

He finishes his as well. “no problem. figured we’d both need it.” You watch Sans as he sits, looking at your arm. His face is downcast and you hate seeing him that way. You feel your own soul throb sluggishly in melancholy. But underneath you feel determined. You want to help him feel better. You lean towards him and place a kiss to his mouth.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“i dunno. is it humerus?”

“It’ll tickle your funny bone for sure,” you say as you poke his ribs. He chuckles.

“Why did the ghost get into an elevator?” Sans shrugs, mouth tilting upwards faintly. “To lift his spirits.” You feel accomplished when his chuckles deepen.

“Why are graveyards so noisy?” You pause for effect. “Because of all the coffin.” You get a decent bark out of that one. Your subsequent smile lights up your face.

“How come skeletons don’t get cold?” He waits, eye-lights getting brighter and brighter. “It goes right through ‘em.”

“i guess you could call ‘em numbskulls.” You snort and cover your mouth with your hands, trying to keep your giggles behind bars. A true smile graces his face as he lifts his hands to remove yours from your face. He kisses them before kissing you. “god, i love your laugh.”

You pepper kisses all across his face, making him chuckle. “Perfect, because I love your jokes.” You hold each other for a bit, just enjoying one another’s company. Reacquainting yourselves after a rough night.

“Mind if I take a shower?” He shakes his head and kisses you again. You sit up and briefly straddle him before getting out of bed. You lay a hand on his sternum.

You murmur, “You’re more than welcome to join me,” before stepping away into the bathroom. You’re excited for this shower in more ways than one. This is your first one after getting your cast off and it’ll be so nice to feel the water. You turn the nobs to hot and undress, stepping carefully into the water.

_Oh man._

It’s even better than you expected. You feel so free without your cast and you immediately start washing your arm and body. You’re standing, face in the stream when you think you hear the door open. You turn your head and see Sans step inside the shower behind you. He smiles at you, eyes taking in your naked form; you smile back. His smooth hands raise up and lay gently on your lower back, sliding up and down. You flex your shoulder blades, enjoying the massage.

“Hey you.”

He moves closer so his chest is pressing up against your back. His hands stray to your sides, the water running in rivulets down your bodies.

“hey yourself.”

You turn to face him and rub your hands on his ribs. He utters a soft groan and his fingers grip your sides even tighter. You start to wash him, over his chest and around to his spine, feeling every divot and impression along the grain of his ribs. His hands mirror your actions, gliding over your abdomen and up to your breasts. Your hands tighten around his ribs as he caresses you. He stops briefly and lays his skull on your shoulder, breath skirting shakily across your wet skin.

“two hands are _way_ better than one.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him, kissing his vertebrae, as you both stand in the now-cooling water. It starts to get a bit too cold and your body shivers, covering itself in goosebumps. Sans chuckles and washes you both off before turning off the water. He steps out and grabs the towel, holding it out for you to step in. You wring out your hair before getting out. Sans wraps you in the towel, drying you off carefully, rubbing your skin, before drying himself off. He throws the towel onto the sink and surprises you by moving quickly to you, kissing you hard and fast. He’s insistent, hands and mouth and tongue pushing, trying to dispel the events of last night. He wants to make it up to you; make you _feel_ good. He just wants to forget, wants to get lost in you. You may not realize his deeper intentions, but you’re not complaining. Your arms come up to circle his neck as his grab your waist. He suddenly lifts you up and you laugh against his teeth, crossing your legs behind his hips. He carries you out to his bedroom and you both fall onto the bed, laughing.

His hands begin to travel up and down your body, fervent in their attempt to feel all of you. Your mind wanders again, curious as to his insistence, this almost sudden compulsion, but it doesn't stay on that thought for long. It _can't._  You run your tongue across his teeth. His eye flares and you feel his tongue explore your mouth. Your arousal has been building since before the shower and you need him. After everything that’s happened, you need him like water to survive. The heat grows, consuming you and echoing his feverish attentions. You express your want through a gentle thrust of your hips. You hear Sans rumble and his canines bite your lip. He pulls away and his hands come to your face. You make a curious sound as you look at him.

His whisper is gruff, blue blush spreading across his face, “so uh…i’ve done some…research into things you might like…and if you’re willing to try, we…could.” He trails off and gives a nervous chuckle. You grin broadly, biting your lip.

“Hell yes.” He laughs and kisses you again. You feel his eye blaze brighter and the familiar heat and tingle of his magic travel down his center to his hips. You gasp as you feel a recognizable shape manifest on your center. Sans groans as he shifts. You kiss him and you can’t help but move your own hips. You both moan at the new sensations. You separate and throw back your head, nearly lost in pleasure already. Sans kisses down your jaw to your neck.

He whispers roughly, “please…show me what to do.” You nod as you breathe, moving your hand between your bodies. Your fingers come across something that feels a lot like what his tongue is made of. Your hand grasps it and Sans’ hips jerk and he nips your neck. You stroke him several times before guiding him to your entrance.

You gasp, voice shaking from anticipation, “I think you know what to do now.” He laughs low in his throat and kisses your neck. He pushes against you and begins to slide in. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. But oh god have you been waiting for this. The incredible weight of him, the way he fills you to the brim, not just physically but in thought and emotion. He’s everything.

You moan, “Oh god Sans, yes….”

He growls and bites your neck again. He pushes in all the way and rests there for a minute as you both struggle for breath. Struggle to hold onto reality. He feels your muscles clench around him and he sighs. He thought he knew everything. But he was so wrong. And he’s glad he was wrong. He can’t imagine going back. It might shatter him to never experience you, feel you, _know_ you again. Heneverwantstohurtyo- _No_. He grinds his teeth and focuses on you. Only you. He starts to pull back out and the sensation is almost too much. But he can’t get enough. Neither of you can. He thrusts back into you and you both groan again.

“shit, ___....”

One of your hands rests on his skull while the other grasps his ribs. “Sans…faster. _Please._ ”

And he does.

He kisses your neck and bites down again as he thrusts into you. You meet his hips equally. He feels you start to shudder and moan and he knows you’re close. He is too. He picks up the pace and without much warning you arch your back against his chest and he feels you spasm around him and it is too much now as he follows you quickly in climax. You hold each other close as you come back down. His eye extinguishes and you feel almost uncomfortably empty now. You’re panting and you begin kissing Sans; his mouth, his cheekbones, his jaw. His hands tangle themselves in your hair and he rolls the both of you onto your sides, facing each other. You smile at him, thoroughly exhausted and satisfied. He smiles back at you, stealing soft kisses.

“Did you like that?”

He chuckles against your lips. “oh yeah.”

“Welcome to the crash course in weird human anatomy.”

His fingers comb through your damp locks. “i think i’m pretty fond of what i’ve seen so far.”

“And I’m pretty fond of a certain skeleton.” You place a playful kiss against his teeth and he makes a happy sound in his chest. You kiss and embrace for a little while longer before you move to sit up. You stretch and stand. Sans sits up as well, and he reaches out for your hips, pulling you close again. You laugh as he places his mouth against your back.

He asks, “where do you think you’re goin’?”

“If you must know, to the kitchen for water. My fragile human body demands it.” He laughs and stands up, dragging his hands up your sides. He finally lets you go so you can put some clothes on. He does as well and follows you out to the living room. But when you’re about to pass the couch, he grabs your waist and tugs you, ushering you onto the couch. You look up, confused.

“i’ll get it.”

“Uh… ok? Thanks.”

He chuckles and strokes your cheek before ambling around the couch. You turn and throw your arms over the back, resting your chin on the cushion as you watch him.

He calls out, “water, right?”

“Yes, please.”

He busies himself, pulling out a cup. He responds, half-focused, “ya got it, babe.”

He immediately freezes.

_way to look smooth_ , Sans thinks. The  _shit_ he also thinks isn't far behind. A blue blush spreads across his skull. He forces himself to move and finish getting your water, movements wooden. Why did he say that? It just came out. He obviously wanted to subconsciously. _He_ likes it, but he wonders what in the world you could be thinking about it.

Oh _man_ , did he just call you babe? You raise your eyebrows and open your mouth in a surprised grin. You bet he’s kicking himself for blurting it out. But if you’re honest with yourself, you enjoy the name and find his nervousness endearing. No one has ever really called you that before, but coming from Sans it’s different. You like it. You wait for him to turn around, staring at his back like a fox after a rabbit.

Sans sighs, he finally turns around and meets your bright and excited gaze. His eyes widen, but his blush doesn’t disappear as he catches your astounded grin. He walks over to you cautiously, testing the waters. He hands you your cup and coughs unnecessarily into his hand.

“so, uh…that happened.”

You take a sip, grin never faltering, eyes never leaving his. “Yes it did.”

He shifts and sticks one hand in his pocket as the other rubs across his skull. “we can uh…pretend it didn’t?”

You roll the cup in between your hands as you give him a sidelong glance. “Well…. What if I told you that I didn’t want to pretend it didn’t?”

He pauses and stares at you wide-eyed. “ya liked it?”

You place your fist under your cheek, holding your head up as you smile fondly at him.

“I did.”

He chuckles, a little giddy. “good, that’s…good.” He grins broadly back at you. “i liked it too.”

You giggle and make a show of biting down, playfully growling at him. “Well say it again.”

He blushes again, but pulls himself together. He leans to you and brushes a kiss against your cheek, murmuring, “babe.”

You giggle even harder, biting your lip and even blushing yourself. “Sans, you devil, you.” He laughs and moves around the couch to sit next to you on your right. You turn and sink back into the couch, sipping your water. Sans turns on the TV, not because he’s really watching it, but just for background noise. You tip back the cup and finish drinking, getting up to place it in the sink. When you walk back, Sans pats the pillow he’s placed on his lap.

“lay down and put your head here.” You do as he says, settling in and folding your hands on your stomach. His fingers start dragging through your hair, untangling it and spreading it across the pillow. They’re cool, possibly from being damp, but they’re very fine. Like spidersilk. His fingers scratch your scalp slightly and you hum. He lays his left hand on your shoulder.

“that feel good, babe?”

You smile, blushing again. You raise your left hand to grab his, tenderly entwining your fingers together. “It’s great, Sans.” You yawn and close your eyes. You mutter again, “You’re great….”

His fingers squeeze yours and he leans his head back, closing his eyes too. Exhaustion makes his bones feel heavy, but he feels much better than earlier. He smirks. It was probably all part of your plan. He doesn't deny it was part of his too. Everything’s ok. He’s gonna make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be interested in what y'all have to say about this chapter. I hope you enjoy though!
> 
> LUV U ALL <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	24. To See

You wake up with a hard pressure against your cheek. You open your eyes to a field of fuzzy whites and greens. You tilt your head back to focus your vision and realize you’ve been leaning on Sans’ forearm. Your fingers are still loosely intertwined together and you feel his other hand laying heavy and limp on part of your head. Your eyes shift upwards to get a good look at him. He’s out like a light, face slack and calm. That soothes your worry a bit. He must be so exhausted after last night. And you can’t blame him. You can only imagine how intense his nightmare was for him to react so drastically. You fully understand the extent of his exhaustion when you slowly sit up. He doesn’t stir at all. Your attention moves to your wrist, only now getting a good look at it. You absently trace the imprint of his fingers. They’re faint, but they’re there. Your thoughts wander. You hope it doesn’t happen again, but not for yourself. For him. You don’t want him to have to go through that again. But how can you help? Ignoring it won’t help at all, and you can’t just distract him whenever something goes down, like you did today. But he has to let you in first. All you can do is be there for him when shit happens.

You get up from the couch as quietly as you can and walk to Sans’ room with a purpose. You put your hands on your hips and search the room. Ah, there it is. You pick up the soft blanket as well as your phone and head back into the living room. Sans is right where you left him. You unfold the blanket and drape it over his sleeping form, making sure he’s covered. You smile and you reach out, fingers stroking his cheekbone before stepping back and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. You thumb through your phone for a while until you hear a car pull up into the driveway. Papyrus is home. You wave to him through the window as he walks up. He waves back, sprinting the rest of the way to the door. Your eyes shoot over to Sans, thinking _please don’t yell please don’t yell._

Papyrus comes in like a whirlwind, opening his mouth wide to give you a loud hello, but he deflates when he sees Sans asleep on the couch. He tilts his head in concern as he walks over to you. You look up at him and take his hand in greeting, smiling softly.

“Hey Papyrus.”

He looks to you, briefly smiling, before asking, “Hello friend. Is my brother alright?”

You nod and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Yeah, he’s just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Papyrus nods, like this isn’t new to him, and you let go of his hand when he moves over to Sans. He scoops him up, carrying him as effortlessly as he would a doll, the pillow slipping from his lap. You watch, eyebrows raised in astonishment and surprise when Sans doesn’t wake up. You follow Papyrus with your eyes as he takes Sans to his room, tucking him in his bed. He shuts the door behind him once he’s done and comes to sit on the couch beside you. He gives you a calm smile.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

You chuckle, nodding. “I gotta say, that was pretty impressive you carrying him like that. You made it look so easy.”

He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest in pride. “Nyeh! Well I am pretty great after all.”

You smile in agreement. You wait a beat before asking, “So it seems like you’re not surprised he didn’t sleep well?”

Papyrus leans back into the cushions, looking pensive and not-at-all Papyrus-like. “I have known for a while that Sans does not sleep well. I just do not know why.”

“You and me both.”

“My brother is very secretive, but he means well by everything he does. He must have a good reason for not saying anything, and I trust him. I believe that he will say something when he feels ready.”

You nod, listening. He continues, looking over to you and smiling a now very Papyrus smile, “It is obvious you care for him.”

“I really do.” Your voice is as strong as your conviction.

He tilts his head, curious. “Do you love him?” His tone is conversational and interested. As if he asked the easiest question in the world. And _not_ the hardest one. Your eyes widen and your throat tightens. Just hearing it said out loud is enough to set your heart racing. You open and close your mouth as your mind races to find the right words.

“I…Maybe? I don’t know yet, Papyrus.”

“You do not know yet? This is the next step the dating book says.” He rubs his chin in thought as he rambles, “At least I believe that is what it said…. You _are_ doing things a bit out of order….”

You laugh a bit too loud and try to calm yourself down. “I think I need to get you a new dating book, Paps.” He looks equally affronted and excited at the prospect of replacing his trusty tome. “But as far as your question goes, you know the phrase ‘falling in love,’ right?”

He nods vigorously, eyes focused on you.

You look off, talking soft. “I think that’s maybe how it works. It’s not just, ‘you don’t love’ and then ‘you love.’ It sometimes takes a while or happens fast and changes a lot. And then one day you pay attention and you realize. You can’t stop thinking about them. That you do things with them in mind. That they’re in your every thought, from when you wake up until you fall back asleep. And even in between.” Papyrus’ smile glows.

“It sounds like you are already there!”

You blush and laugh. “Well, I think I’m definitely in the process of falling.” Your laughter trails off as you look thoughtful. “I’m just not sure how Sans feels.”

“I believe he is ‘falling’ as well.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, small smile tugging your lips up. “Yeah?”

“Sans does not say much, except for his _‘jokes,’_ ” Papyrus admits with much sarcasm and a touch of good-natured disdain, “but he does act differently around you and when he talks about you. He is much happier.” He smiles at you. “I think that if you told him how you feel, you would not be surprised if he responds in kind.”

Both your smile and blush grow as you consider Papyrus’ words.

“Thanks Papyrus. I… really needed to hear that.”

“Of course friend! I know you will continue to treat my brother well!” He jumps up from the couch and offers his hand out to you. “Would you like to help me make SPAGHETTI?”

You take it and he hoists you up. “Yeah.” You grin at him and follow his excited footsteps into the kitchen.

\----------------

Sans wakes up to a face full of pillow. He rolls his head, pressing his skull into the cool fabric. He makes a low groan in the back of his throat as he forces himself awake. As he comes to, two things step forward in his mind, calling his attention. One, how did he get in his bed. And two, you. As in, where are you and why aren’t you here in bed with him. He opens his sockets and takes in his surroundings and you-less bed. He hears movement out in the kitchen and his concerns are set aside when he catches your boisterous laughter sounding and cutting off just as swiftly. He smiles and chuckles to himself. He could listen to your laugh possibly for the rest of his life and _never_ get tired of it. It’s unrestrained, unapologetic, and genuine. And the best thing is it doesn’t take much to make you laugh. He stretches and yawns, bones rattling and clicking; arms itching to hold you. He throws back the blanket and sits on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his face. He needed that nap. He’s still tired, but not _exhausted_. He hopes that you were able to take a small nap too.

He gets up and opens his door, shuffling out to the kitchen where you and Papyrus are sitting down and talking. He notices the empty plates in front of you both and he wonders how long he’s been asleep. Papyrus notices Sans and yells, “HELLO BROTHER! We saved some spaghetti for you! We did not know when you would be up.”

You turn around and look at Sans, eyes warm and smile bright. He comes up behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, bending and pressing a toothy kiss to the top of your head. Your left hand comes up to squeeze his before he moves away.

You give a crooked smile, teasing, “I think Papyrus wants a kiss too.”

Papyrus gives you a shocked look, yelling, “HUMAN!” Sans laughs and ambles over to Papyrus, who warns, “SANS….”

“that’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Papyrus pouts and crosses his arms, grumbling as he puts up with a hug and kiss on the skull from Sans.

“SANS, THIS IS ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY.”

Sans pats Papyrus’ head. “shh, just let it happen.”

You’re laughing the whole time as you watch the exchange. Sibling goals if there ever were. Sans eventually sits in the open chair after he’s decided he’s done torturing Papyrus enough. He leans with an elbow on the table and propping up his head in his hand.

“how was work, paps?”

“VERY GOOD! I am going to show ___ the gym tomorrow! Undyne and I will help them train!”

Sans glances over at you, slightly concerned. “that a good idea? ya just got your cast off.”

You give him a comforting smile. “I’ll be ok. Just gonna swim around, nothing crazy.”

“YES, I will make sure they are safe!”

He chuckles and relaxes. “well if you guys pool your resources, i guess it should be fine.”

Papyrus places his hands gently on the table, but it’s deceiving because he shouts, “SANS NO!”

You giggle and smirk at him. “C’mon, you gotta dive a little deeper than that.”

Laughing, Sans says, “i’m just testin’ the waters, babe.”

That sends you into peals of laughter and Papyrus into a fit as he flies from the table, yelling, “IF YOU NEED ME I WILL BE IN THE LIVING ROOM LISTENING TO METTATON _VERY LOUDLY_!” He stomps out of the kitchen, leaving you and Sans by yourselves. You lean on the table and rest your hand on his knee, searching his face. He still seems tired, but not as much as before. He smiles back at you, placing his hand over yours.

“Nap ok?”

“yeah. did you sleep at all?”

You nod. “Some. Woke up before Papyrus got home. He took you to your room.”

He chuckles. “was wonderin’ ‘bout that.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I can’t pick you up. Yet, at least,” you say, winking at him.

“well, i am big-boned.”

You bite your lip and smirk coyly at him. “Yes, you certainly are.” A swift wash of blue coats his face as he sputters out a laugh. You laugh with him and get up from your seat, stepping behind him and wrapping your arms over his shoulders and chest. You rest your face against the side of his. His hands rise to lay on your arms. You sigh, happy to see he’s a bit better. You place small, tender kisses along his jaw and down the vertebrae of his neck. His fingers tighten and a groan rumbles through his chest.

You whisper, “Want anything to eat, baby?”

His rumbles form out a single word that causes you to giggle against his neck. “you.”

You lift your head and nuzzle his cheekbone, smiling. “You gotta eat your vegetables before you can get dessert.”

He grumbles in protest. “i’ll have what you guys made then.” He turns his head and kisses you. “for now.”

You smile against his teeth and say, “I’ll get it for ya, hot stuff.” His hands stroke up and down your arms.

“thank you.”

You hum and slide away from him, fixing him a plate of spaghetti. You place it in front of him and caress his skull before sitting down yourself. Papyrus makes good on his word, because the TV starts blaring some Mettaton show, his dramatic and electronic voice a bit abrasive at this volume. It definitely doesn’t allow for much talking unless you yell. Instead, you just sit with Sans as he eats. You scoot lower in your chair, throwing up a leg onto Sans’ lap as you check your emails on your phone. His cool hand lays along your shin, rubbing your smooth skin. You glance up at him and see him smiling, full of mischief. You smirk and purse your lips in a kiss as you look back down at your phone. He continues eating, but with each pass his hand goes higher. You’re not sure how many times you’ve had to reread this particular email, because it’s becoming quite hard to concentrate. Then again, you did kinda ask for it. His hand squeezes your leg before he lifts it and sets it down so he can get up to put his plate in the sink. When he walks back his hands lay on your hair, combing through it before he kisses you on the cheek. You smile and lean into it. His kisses trail lower until he’s right below your jaw. Your fingers clench around your phone and you close your eyes, mind in a daze.

You feel him whisper in your ear, “i had my vegetables.” Your skin sings when you start to feel him open his mouth. When you feel his teeth bite your neck gently, his canines pressing into your skin, you can’t help but open your mouth in a silent gasp. “i’ll be waiting for dessert.” You can’t speak. All you can manage is a choked laugh. Sans chuckles against your throat, kissing it before he releases you. He goes back into the living room to sit and watch TV with Papyrus. Yeah, you’re gonna need to just sit here for a minute and collect yourself. Your face is hot and you exhale as you get up to get a glass of water. You pat your face, checking to see if the heat is gone as you sip the cool liquid. When you think you’ve sufficiently regained some of your chill, you head for the couch. Sans looks up at you and extends his arm in invitation to sit next to him. You smile and plop down, his arm snaking around your waist and tucking you into his side.

As you watch the show with the brothers, your mind wanders back to the conversation you had with Papyrus. A multitude of emotions flood you. You feel Sans’ steady respirations, his occasional vibrating chuckles as he listens to Papyrus’ reactions, his arm behind you, his hand rubbing lazy circles into the flesh of your waist. You’ve never felt safer, or more cared for. Loved. You feel loved. Is this it? Is this what a million songs sing about? You’ve been in love before, at least you think you have. But it’s been a long time, or what feels like a long time. For such a powerful emotion, it’s almost sad how quickly it can fade over time. Like you’re not even sure what it feels like anymore, but you _know_ you’ve felt it before. It makes it that much harder to recognize it once it’s there. But as you sit with Sans and turn it over and over in your head, you think you know. Your past relationships weren’t like this. God, they were almost laughable in comparison. It sounds fucking cliché, but this time feels different. You’re definitely falling, and falling hard, that much you’re positive about.

You’re jolted from your thoughts when Papyrus leans forward to ask you a question. You ask, “Sorry, what?” after missing the first time. Sans chuckles echo off your side.

“Would you like to sing tonight?” Eyes glimmering bright in excitement and hope. It’s well-placed, because you nod, smile reflecting his excitement.

He jumps up from the couch and grabs your left wrist, tugging you up to follow him. Your breath catches from the pressure on your bruises, but you keep it to yourself as best as you can. Sans almost misses that brief furrowing of your brow, the soft hitch in your throat. A pang of guilt threatens its way into his mind but he fiercely pushes it away. He has to. He can’t…. He follows your and Papyrus’ laughter into the bedroom. He busies himself getting the chairs while Papyrus gets ready for bed. His hand moves, trailing his finger down your forearm as you both sit down. A smile graces your lips, sweet and soft.

Once Papyrus is settled in, you ask, “You ready, Paps?” He nods and draws the covers up to his chin, eyes trained on your face.

“This is called Sleep.” You smile. “Good name right?”

“Perfect!”

You chuckle and clear your throat. Your voice slides out, slow, gliding along the air.

“The evening hangs beneath the moon; a silver thread on darkened dune.

With closing eyes and resting head, I know that sleep is coming soon.”

You breathe. Your soul breathes. Sans finds himself breathing with you. Being led by you.

“Upon my pillow safe in bed; a thousand pictures fill my head.

I cannot sleep my mind’s aflight, and yet my limbs seem made of lead.”

You continue, voice quieting, sneaking, painting scenes of light and darkness, sand and sky into the room.

“What dreams may come both dark and deep; of flying wings and soaring leap

As I surrender unto sleep, as I surrender unto sleep.

Sleep, sleep, sleep.”

You trail off, just whispering now, rocking Papyrus to sleep. His sockets slide closed. You sit and smile, humming tunelessly. You look over to Sans, hair sliding behind your shoulder. He’s staring at you. In a way that both you and your soul delight in. Like he could sit all day and do just this. He stands, holding his hand out to you. You take it and he surprises you by pulling you close, whispering in your ear, “beautiful.” He lets you go, leaving you blushing as he takes the chairs and sets them back against the wall. Once you gather yourself for the second time tonight, you lean over Papyrus and place a kiss on his forehead, stepping back as Sans does the same.

After closing Papyrus’ door, Sans’ heads into his room with you in tow, hand tight around yours. As soon as he shuts the door, he tugs you into his arms, kissing you hard. You melt into him, hands coming up to either side of his face. His drop to your waist and slip underneath your shirt, sending your mind and body to tingle. As you kiss him, the tingling spreads and you become more and more aware of your soul. It needs him. Wants him. After everything today, how can you deny it?

You want to see it.

Your conviction strengthens and you begin to shake with the force of your realization, nervousness settling into your muscles. Sans feels your body start to shudder and he pulls away, looking in your eyes.

“babe?”

Your thumbs stroke his cheekbones as you breathe heavily. You meet his gaze.

“Sans…. I know it’s been a hell of a day. But…if you’re willing, I’m ready to see my soul.”

Sans’ sockets widen and he stares at you, making sure he finds no insecurity, fear, or misgivings in your eyes. When he doesn’t respond for a moment, your nerves ricochet.

“If you’re too tired, I completely understand, we don’t have t---.” But you’re cut off as he kisses you again. You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat. When you separate, he presses his forehead against yours, whispering, “i’m not tired. never for that.” You close your eyes briefly and nod.

He leads you over to his bed and you both sit down on top of the sheets, face-to-face. He holds your hand and asks you, voice deep and serious, “you’re sure?” You nod again, throat dry.

His fingers squeeze yours. “i need you to say so, babe.”

You clear your throat and answer, “I’m sure.” You understand his concerns. And you’re so thankful he’s making sure of it. You have no idea what to expect and the suspense is almost suffocating. Your nerves are alive but you feel safe with him. He scoots forward so your knees are touching. He leans forward and lays his other hand on your chest, right over your sternum. You feel his hand hum and vibrate with increasing frequency. The humming travels deep into your chest like a thread and when he pulls his hand back, the thread snags. Your chest heaves. It’s caught onto something so unbelievably deep inside of you and Sans moves his hand farther back, drawing this singing heat to the surface of your chest. You can’t move. All you can do is watch Sans and his hand. You see a glow. Your eyes widen as something _slips out of your chest_. A silvery mist drifts out, unhurried, swirling as steadily as a river. You gasp and you hear Sans’ breath hitch. Your hand is clenching his. The something condenses and forms into a heart-shaped crystal that is such a deep green it almost looks black in a certain light. Like when dusk falls in a forest, and the shadows paint the trees in impossible swaths of darkness.

That’s it.

That’s your soul.

Once it’s out of the confines of your chest, it feels like some slack has been given, though you are still very much aware of the tether that ties you two together. Your astounded eyes meet Sans’, whose gaze is nearly riveted onto your soul. You let out a shuddering breath.

“So…that’s….”

“your soul.”

“…Oh my fucking god.” Your mind can’t decide whether it’s ecstatic or flabbergasted or awe-struck or what. Either way, your vision swims with unbidden tears. They roll fat, slow, and steady down your smiling cheeks.

“My soul…it’s…”

“gorgeous.”

And it is. It’s _so_ beautiful to Sans. It’s so alive and curious and passionate, boiling with energy and a fire that is inarguably you. It takes all of his willpower to keep from caressing that faceted surface. From feeling you, knowing you, loving you completely and totally. There is nothing in this world he wants more than that. But he has to wait.

It hovers, riding along some invisible wave that probably only Sans can see. It seems to swallow the light and then spit it back out, reflecting it along its crystalline surface. You let go of Sans’ hand a bit reluctantly, but you can’t stop yourself from trying to touch it. You know you won’t be able to, but you hope regardless. You bring your fingers up and move to brush it, but they slip through it like smoke. The shimmering tendrils weave eddies around your fingers and then find their way back to your soul, reforming the surface. You’re only a bit disappointed as you glance up at Sans.

“Had to try.”

His face seems strained, but from what, you’re not sure. However, he looks every bit as amazed as you’re sure you do. He whispers, voice hoarse, “don’t blame you.”

He starts to move his hands toward your soul and your breath catches when you see it glisten. You _feel_ it react. Sans makes sure to stay far enough away so he doesn’t risk touching it, but he cups his hands around it and it responds by glowing brighter. He has to focus and actively keep himself from touching your soul. His hands are like magnets, the magic tugging and calling impatiently. Sans gets some satisfaction knowing he’s the one who makes your soul react this way though. You chuckle weakly.

“I think it likes you.”

Sans’ fingers twitch as he laughs with you. “well i like it too.”

A grin spreads across your face at the same time your soul sends out a small pulse of light. You gasp in excitement, pointing at it.

“Did you see that? It’s happy!”

Sans’ laughter deepens and you can’t help but laugh with him, the sound sending warmth spreading through you. Your soul responds again, the deep green beneath its surface roiling and glinting. Sans hums as he watches.

“it’s happy because _you’re_ happy, babe.”

Sans knows he’s miles away from whatever he would feel if he touched your soul, but already he’s getting signals and vague, fleeting indications from it. His magic and your soul have seemingly been in sync for a while, because being this close feels like putting on a glove or his favorite hoodie. It’s so familiar and so easy he almost doesn’t notice it. But now that it’s out and his fingers are mere inches away, he can tell how fiery you are and how fiercely you love and how incredibly clever you are. Your soul is like your laughter; lively, expressive, and uninhibited. How could he not love this soul? Your soul? You? His realizations make his magic flow faster. It rushes to shelter it, protect it, love it. He’s going to make sure you’re never hurt again, as if he could actually make it happen. His soul is insistent though. There’s no way his magic is letting it go anymore without something to safeguard and care for it, now that both he and his magic begin to understand their place in its world.

You’re entranced. It’s a sight you could never get tired of. Outstanding philosophical implications aside, just seeing your soul is another experience entirely. You look up and see Sans staring as well. His eye-lights are vivid and flashing, hungry, as if he could never get enough of it either. It’s a gaze that is also full of tender concern and protection. And love. You recognize it because you’ve seen him staring at _you_ like that. And you recognize it because you know you’ve been staring at him like that. Your awareness manifests in your soul, waves of green and gold light dance across the surface, dazzling you. Sans glances up at you, interested in what you’re thinking.

“It’s not really good at hiding emotions, huh?”

“nope.”

You burst into giggles and pat your arm. “You should just put it right here on my sleeve.” Sans laughs at that, the tension breaking, and when you both get ahold of yourselves, you say, “Thank you, Sans.”

He drops his hands and his hold on your soul. When he does, your soul dims just the slightest bit before losing its shape to the cloud of silver and gold and light. It slowly makes its way back inside your chest, slipping in as effortlessly as a fish into water. You sigh when it does, feeling…complete again. Sans hands grasp your forearms, pulling you up and onto his lap, his arms encircling your waist. Your arms lift to wrap themselves around his neck, anchoring you to him. Sans’ eyes stare into yours for a long time before he answers, “of course, babe. anytime.” His voice holds a weight that says he would do it whenever you ask, gladly and without question.

You move your hand to place it on his cheekbone and lean in to kiss him, at first soft but then growing in passion. You murmur against his mouth, “So was that a good dessert?”

He chuckles against your lips. “i dunno ‘bout you, but i’m ready for seconds.” You let out a throaty laugh as he kisses you again. He opens his mouth and you let his tongue explore yours.

\-----

Fingers press. Breath quickens. Then catches.

“i want you.”

“You have me. I’m yours, Sans….”

\-----

Gasps break apart the silence. Blood pounds. Magic rushes. Soft whispers caress bone, skin, air.

“do you know what you do to me?”

“If it’s the same as what you do to me, then yes.”

\-----

Fires are lit. Then rage. Rending the darkness.

“___.... look at me. i want to see you.”

“ _Sans_ ….”

\-----

Heavy sighs stitch back the night. Sliding. Leaden but alive.

“i’m so incredibly lucky.”

“You and me both….”

A pause.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sans.”

“…i’d be pretty bonely.”

“Me too.”

\-----------------

It’s early. As far as you know, it’s still nighttime. It’s been several hours since you and Sans had finished your lovemaking. Sans fell asleep like a rock, but you just…haven’t. Lord knows you’re exhausted. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s because of your soul. You turn your head to look at Sans. He’s turned facing you, face partially obscured by his pillow, with one arm draped over your abdomen. You smile. He looks so calm and relaxed. You wish you could be asleep with him. But it’s just not happening tonight. Your hand rests over your bare chest. Your mind keeps going back to _it._ It was just so beautiful. Extraordinary. Just knowing that it’s there, not to mention seeing it for yourself, instills this incredible sense of _self_ in you. Like everything you’ve done up to this point is because of it, and you can trust it to help guide you in the future, because _it’s there_ and you _know_ it’s there now. Warmth trickles through you.

Sans’ arm moves. It tightens around you, and he scoots closer, chest pressing up against you. His skull shifts to rest on your shoulder, becoming his new pillow. A feeling of security makes its way through you and your soul rejoices. It seems like it does whenever it’s around him. You second its opinion. Just as your soul recognizes him, he seems extremely attuned to yours. Like he knows it. You suppose he does to an extent. Every day you’re together, you know each other a little more. You can’t imagine what it’ll be like when he touches your soul. When he truly knows it and you. And it’s a question of when, not if, because if today has taught you anything, it’s that not only is your soul yours, it’s also becoming his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK AN UPDATE! 
> 
> Tried some different things in this one. I hope you like-a. 
> 
> Like-a do da cha-cha.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com
> 
> (also apologies if there are typos, editing while hungover is not best plan)


	25. Guilt

You’ve only just gotten to sleep when you hear Papyrus banging on Sans’ door. You let out a distressed grumble and lay your arm over your eyes as Sans shifts around you.

“GOOD MORNING HUMAN AND SANS! I WILL SEE YOU LATER AT THE GYM!”

Sans raises his skull and half-yells, voice deep and thick from sleep, “see ya, bro.” You force out an exhausted acknowledgement as well. You hear Papyrus leave, door slamming shut. Sans’ hand slides along your arm, lifting it from your face. He’s hovering over you, eyes sleepy but well-rested looking.

“morning, babe.”

You blink groggily and flash him a tired smile. “Morning.”

He looks at you more, noticing the dark circles under your eyes. His hand rises, fingers stroking your face. “did you sleep ok?”

You lean your face into his touch, closing your eyes. “Sleep is such a relative term. So overrated.”

“babe…,” he urges.

You open one eye to look at him. His brow is creased in concern. You give him a reassuring smile as you yawn. “Nah, I didn’t really sleep, but I’m ok. Just a lot has happened and my mind couldn’t calm down, you know?”

He bends down to track small kisses from your cheek to your jaw. His hand grazes your wrist, drawing you to him protectively. He rumbles out, “anything you wanna talk about?”

You shrug as you stretch and press up against him, enjoying his mouth. “Not really. Just that soul business is somethin’ else.” Your hands come up to rub along his ribs. He growls his agreement. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“better than you can imagine.”

You kiss him once more. “Is that what you see all the time?”

“heh, only with you.” You laugh against his mouth. You stretch and give him one last kiss before pushing yourself up into a sitting position. His hand rests along your back. “you sure you’re good to go swim today?”

You smile as you put your arm through your exercises. “Yeah, I’ll just sustain myself on coffee before I go.”

His concern ebbs only slightly. “just take care of yourself, babe.”

You hunch over stretching your back against Sans’ hand, chuckling. “Don’t worry, sleep is actually my real lover. I hate to break it to ya, Sans, but I can’t stay away for long.”

He throws up his hands, feigning distress. “how dare you? how long has this been going on, ___?”

You try to fight your laughter. “God, for what feels like a lifetime!”

His grin nearly splits his face as he admits, “well, joke’s on you, because i’ve been sleeping too.”

You fall forward onto the covers, unable to stifle your laughs anymore. Your muffled yells have Sans laughing with you, deep and loud.

“Betrayal!”

He starts tickling you and you squeal, squirming to get out of his grip. You eventually worm your way off the bed, jumping across the room. You throw up your hands to ward him off as he follows you off the bed. He’s still chuckling when he holds his arms out in surrender.

“you’re the only one for me.”

You saunter over to him and throw your arms around his shoulders. “That’s right. Sleep can go fuck itself, because you’re mine.” He laughs and cups the back of your head with his hand, kissing you.

“i dunno. sleep is still pretty important to me. how open are you to threesomes?” He teases, biting your lip.

You laugh and hug him tight. “I was never one for sharing…but if it’s for sleep, then _maybe_.” He chuckles and when you pull out of his arms, he lightly slaps your ass. You yelp and throw him an astounded grin. He shrugs, lazy smile gracing his face but the lights of his eyes are playful and satisfied.

You point at him before looking to find your clothes. “You’re right, you are lucky. Lucky you’re not anyone else, sweetheart.” You hear him laugh and see him pull on some clothes as well.

“So you gonna swing by the gym?”

“yeah, i’ll see how it’s hangin’.” You laugh into the fabric of your shirt as you guide your arm carefully through the sleeve. A strange thought passes through your mind. How has it not crossed your mind before? You turn to him with a curious expression on your face.

“Do you swim?”

A crooked smile crosses his face as he takes in your confusion.

“i mean, i can, technically speaking.”

You put your hands on your hips as you think. Sans watches your brow crease in thought. One of the many things he loves about you. He enjoys seeing you work through things. Despite your art background, he thinks you’d make a great scientist.

“Are you buoyant? Like is it just magic instead of air?”

His grin spreads as he nods.

“Let me rephrase then. Do you _like_ to swim?”

He shrugs as he slips into his hoodie. “i like it alright. don’t do it much to be honest.”

“Well dip your toes in, you might like it.” You wink at him. He laughs and steps over to you, wrapping you up in one more hug. He holds you close, breathing in your scent. A scent that has mingled with his own. He doesn’t know exactly why, but it fills him with a smug satisfaction and possessiveness that surprises him a bit. Not that you belong to anyone but yourself. If anyone knows that, it’s him. But that it’s been him that’s rubbed off on you, him who you’re spending your precious time with. He’s honored by it and he’ll do his damndest to live up to it.

He lets you go, following you out of his room into the hallway. He helps you into your jacket, hands lingering on your waist. He sees that sweet small smile lift your lips. A smile meant just for him. He opens the door and walks you out to your truck. You open the door and lean inside to throw your things into the passenger seat. Once you have everything situated, you turn and throw yourself into Sans’ waiting arms. You murmur in a soft tone, voice becoming thick with emotion, “Thank you…for everything, Sans.”

He sighs when he feels your soul pulse in tandem with your words. His magic rushes through his bones, called and calling out. He tilts his skull back to look into your eyes, hands coming up to cup either side of your face.

“anything for you.”

And by the stars does he mean it.

You blush, at a loss for words. Your soul is too, but that doesn’t stop it from singing a wordless and nameless melody. Your soul is simple. All it asks for is love and some good fuckin’ rock.

You clear your throat and quickly blink back the stinging threat of tears. Your face is lit up with an ear-splitting grin. He steals one more deep kiss from you before you step away and into your truck.

“see ya later.”

You wave and blow him a kiss before driving off. As he watches you leave, he feels this itching urge. To let you leave without saying how he truly feels seems like a sin, sour and bulking and crawling on his back. Because he knows now. It doesn’t feel right to just say bye anymore. No. _Care_ isn’t enough. Nothing is enough. But only love comes close.

\-------------

You’re staring up boldly – and perhaps a bit stupidly – into the face of a very enthusiastic fish monster who looks to be on the verge of tossing you in the pool herself.

“You go first.”

“I’m here all day, punk. You first!”

You place your hands on your hips and smirk at her. “You too scared?”

Her eye flashes and she flexes in indignation. “Fuhuhu, yeah RIGHT! I’m goin’.” But she picks you up around the waist like a doll and strides over to the pool. Papyrus holds up his hands and yells, “BE CAREFUL UNDYNE!” You yelp out a laugh and struggle against her iron grip. “If I’m goin’ in, you’re goin’ in with me!” And with that she jumps into the deep end and you give a yell before being consumed with water. You pump your arms and break the surface of the water, laughing your ass off. Undyne is floating next to you, laughing and grinning too, her teeth reflecting the disturbed water.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it, punk?”

You laugh and splash her. “Yeah I guess. I was just testing you.” You tread water and watch Undyne swim around, effortless and completely at home. You can’t wait until your arm is back to its original flexibility so you won’t have to worry about it. And also train with Undyne. Maybe she can teach you some stuff. You look around the pool. It’s a pretty standard size, though not Olympic length. There’s a diving end that extends all the way down to sixteen feet with three diving boards at increasing height. There’s no one else in the pool but you and Undyne, with Papyrus milling about on the sideline. The weather is still on the colder side. Even though it’s inside and temperature-controlled, people tend to not want to swim when it’s not summer. It doesn’t really bother you though. Water is water and you love it.

You point to the diving boards and ask Undyne, “Those off limits?”

“Nah. Just the two taller ones. Wanna have a cannonball contest?!”

“You read my mind,” you laugh. You pull yourself out of the pool, still favoring your left arm. You walk carefully around to the board and Undyne ushers you on.

“Show me whatcha got!”

You take a big breath and half-jog, catapulting yourself off the edge with a loud whoop. You tuck yourself into a ball, protecting your right arm as you fall into the water, angling yourself to try and splash Undyne and Papyrus. You sink a good way down. You open your eyes; the chlorine stings, but not much. You stay down for a few more seconds before twisting your way up to the surface. You gasp and flip your hair out of your face, smiling to high heaven.

“That was great, human!”

Undyne laughs and scoffs, “That was weak sauce! Check THIS out!” Undyne runs and jumps off the board, going impressively high before slamming down into the water, creating a massive plume of water to rain down over you and partly on Papyrus. When she resurfaces, you raise your hands out of the water and clap, kicking your legs to stay afloat.

“Think you won that one!”

“You’re damn right!”

“LANGUAGE.”

Undyne responds by splashing Papyrus, who yells, “UNDYNE, NO SPLASHING! THOSE ARE THE RULES.”

She makes a face at Papyrus and calls to you, “C’mon, ___! Again!”

You nod and laugh, following her out of the pool again. After Undyne jumps off the board and is clear, you move to jump next. You bounce and sling yourself up and forward in a haphazard somersault, splashing Undyne as you hit the water. You kick your legs and surface, sputtering because your hair is laying heavy and limp over your face. You submerge and shake your head, loosening the strands. When you come back up, who should you see but Sans standing next to Papyrus, eyes glittering in delight.

He’d walked in just as you were jumping in. He caught your ecstatic smile as you plunged into the water, a loud laugh on your lips, eyes screwed shut in preparation for impact. He can’t help but smile at your happiness. You look almost as much at home in the water as Undyne does. He can feel your soul, even from here. It seems that it’s getting easier and easier to recognize it. Your soul is glowing in exhilaration and when your eyes meet his, he can feel it throb in joy at the sight of him. The rush of magic makes his bones rattle faintly.

You swim over to the edge, moving your arms in figure-eights to tread water. You grin up at Sans and Papyrus.

“Hey!”

Papyrus waves and Sans chuckles, saying with a wink, “hay is for horses.”

You hear Undyne yell, “You gotta do better than that bonehead!” before her strong hands and heavy body push you down in the water with a fast splash. You grab onto her leg and tug her down with you in retribution. She laughs at you underwater and you smile at her before bursting out of the water, throwing your arms around her neck, laughing and wiping the water from your face. You see Sans visibly relax along with a distressed Papyrus. You shoot them both a reassuring smile and thumbs up.

“Ya shoulda seen ‘em Sans, they can make a pretty sweet cannonball. Not as great as mine, but pretty close! You sure they aren’t a fish?” She teases.

He shrugs as he walks closer to the pool with Papyrus. “i guess any _fin_ is possible.” You giggle as you let go of Undyne, swimming over to the edge. He winks as he stares down at you. “i’d have to _mullet_ over though.”

Papyrus crosses his arms in exasperation. “Do not make me throw you in, Sans.” You and Undyne bust out laughing.

“it’s o _fish_ al, paps loves my fish puns.” You duck your head underwater for a second to stifle your laughs. When you come back up Papyrus has lifted a compliant Sans off his feet. His grin is wide and accepting, totally without regret.

You rest your arms along the concrete, smiling up at them. “I dunno, I think you _cod_ do better.” Sans’ grin gets impossibly wider as he looks to you and laughs, chuckles rolling deep from his chest.

He closes his eyes in anticipation, like he knows what’s coming next, and shrugs. “i just gotta get in- _tuna_ with some better material.”

Papyrus lets out a loud exhale and chucks a laughing Sans, yelling, “WHOOPSIE.” You gasp in shock and surprise and all you can think about is his phone.

That is until Sans disappears before hitting the water.

Oh, that’s right.

Goddamn, that’s convenient.

You whip your head back around to see Sans standing next to Papyrus once more, cool as a cucumber, hands in pockets, shit-eating grin on his face. You’re not sure why you find that hot, but you do. You slip under the water to cool your flaming cheeks. When you come back up, Sans’ quick eyes catch your still flushed cheeks and he smirks, left eye flashing the briefest shade of blue.

You avoid his gaze and swim around with Undyne a little more before lifting yourself out of the pool. You stand and wring out your hair, flipping it over and back, shaking it out. Sans watches you from his place by Papyrus. The water drips from your body, running in rivulets across your muscles. Your bathing suit sticks to you like a second skin, emphasizing all of your curves. Your confidence in the water empowers you and he can tell. It’s transfixing. And incredibly attractive. You walk over to where your towel is, drying yourself off before slipping on your shorts and tank top. Undyne follows you, drying off her hair as well.

“Thanks for swimming with me, Undyne,” you say to her sincerely.

She slaps your back and laughs. “No problem, punk!”

“When my arm is 100%, we’re gonna have a race.”

“Won’t be much of a race,” she smirks, confidently. Her teeth glint in the light.

She’s totally right, but you can’t back out now. “I know. ‘Cause I’m gonna make you eat my bubbles.” You laugh as she tries to grab you and pull you in for a noogie, but you dance out of her range and hide behind Papyrus. She shrugs and lunges at Papyrus.

“Good enough!”

Papyrus scrambles but is caught, and you only feel slightly bad about the sacrifice. “UNDYNE! SKELETON. NOOGIES. OFF LIMITS!”

You laugh as they wrestle and sidle over to Sans, out of the way. You glance over at him, face alight. “Hey babe.” He greets you with an equally bright smile.

“hey.”

You slip your hand into his. His fingers squeeze yours and you give a contented sigh. “Whatcha doin’ the rest of the day?”

“gotta take care of some stuff with paps. you?”

“Maybe get some work done. Definitely nap.” You tap your chin. “Screw work, just nap.”

“a beauty after my own heart.” You roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder with yours. You all eventually walk out to the parking lot together. You say your goodbyes to Undyne and Papyrus. You hug Sans as well, kissing him on the cheek. You linger and whisper, “Feel free to text me. Come over if you want.” He rumbles and hugs you tight. He murmurs back, “will do.”

Once you get home, you take a quick shower and lay down on your bed with your laptop. You do try to do work, but it devolves into an accumulation of YouTube videos. Not surprising. You put on your favorite playlist of gaming videos and recline. You fall asleep almost immediately, the videos a steady background noise to your dreamless sleep.

\-------------

Sans sits in the car with Papyrus on their way to the store. He slips down in the seat, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. He looks calm, bored even. However, he is anything but. Papyrus has been unusually quiet for the past few minutes, and that is never a good sign. It makes him so uncomfortable that he clears his throat in preparation to say something, _anything_ , to break this oppressive silence. But Papyrus beats him to it.

“Sans.... Yesterday I could not help but notice our friend’s wrist.” If Sans had a heart, it would have stopped. If he had blood, it would have drained from his face. Instead, his pupils dim to nearly nothing in his sockets as he bows his head. Dread and guilt seep thick and viscous into his bones as he stares at the floor. His knuckles creak with the force he’s inflicting on them.

Papyrus continues, asking, “They did not do that, did they?” Sans tries to remember that he’s truly asking and not accusing.

Sans replies, voice not much above a whisper, “no. i did.” He practically has to rip the disgusting words from his mouth, but he says them. To deny it would condemn him further.

He catches Papyrus nod out of the corner of his eye. “Did it have to do with your inability to sleep?” He’s not very surprised that Papyrus knows he doesn’t sleep well. He can hide it behind a smile, but the dark circles under his sockets scream the truth sometimes. He figures you had to say something while he was asleep yesterday; give some reason as to why he was so exhausted. He doesn’t hold it against you.

Sans looks out the window. “yes. ___ helped me through a nightmare.”

Papyrus responds, voice full of compassion and concern. “Sans, I know you do not want to say anything. But if these nightmares cause you to hurt them, then I do not think you have a choice left. We are here to help you!”

_Hurt them._

The words echo, stabbing like a dull, rusted knife through his head. The feelings he thought he had pushed away come back tenfold. Sans throws his skull back on the headrest, pressing it forcefully against the cushion as tears slip traitorously down his cheekbones. “i know. i know, paps. god i didn’t mean to, i _swear_ ….” His voice cracks as he pleads and he covers his face with his hands. The shame and guilt are overwhelming but he can’t stop. He’s drowning in it. “i want to tell you, tell them, but i don’t know how….” He must be scaring Papyrus so badly right now, but all he can think of is the fearful look on your face as he snarled at you; the unbelievable alarm he felt when he realized your face wasn’t _THEIRS_. The image is seared into his mind, hooking its poisonous barbs deep into Sans’ soul.

Papyrus looks over, startled at the force of Sans’ breakdown. He can only imagine how remorseful he feels. His concern morphs quickly into worry. “Oh, Sans…. Brother, it is alright. I do not blame you and our friend does not either! We only want to help. They care about you very much, as do I.”

Sans takes a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from his face frantically, angrily as he listens to Papyrus. “You must do it when you feel ready, but I think that you _must_ do it. At least for them if they are going to help you in the midst of them.”

“what if they don’t understand?”

“I think they will, if you give them the chance. You and I both know they would do whatever they could to understand and help.” He smiles at Sans, warm and comforting. “It is not my place to say, but know they care for you. _Very deeply_.” Sans looks over at him, brow creased in thought and interest as he calms down. He wonders what they talked about while he was asleep. Sans sighs, a heavy shaking breath.

“i’m sorry, bro. i didn’t mean for you to see that….”

Papyrus claps him on the shoulder. “Do not worry brother! You can talk to me, and I urge you to! I will always be here for you!” Sans’ chest tightens in love. He mumbles a grateful, “thanks.”

Sans is quiet for a few moments. His phalanges pick at the fabric of his pockets, debating on whether he should say this. “paps…. i think i love them.”

Papyrus whips his head to Sans, grin splitting his face. In his strong reaction, the car swerves a little, but he quickly rights it much to Sans’ relief. “SANS THAT IS WONDERFUL! THEY WILL BE SO HAPPY TO HEAR!”

Sans throws up his hands and shakes his head, desperate. “you can’t tell ‘em, bro.”

“Well of course, but YOU will, correct?”

“i’m just… tryin’ to find the right time.”

“I do not understand the wait!” Papyrus mutters under his breath, confused, “___ basically said the same thing….” Sans’ eyes shoot over to Papyrus.

“what was that?”

Papyrus’ eyes widen and he straightens, nervously staring at the road. “NOTHING!”

Sans exhales, momentarily distracted from trying to figure out what Papyrus said as he thinks. “it’s…complicated?” He grumbles, “fuck, it’s not complicated, i don’t understand why i wait either.”

“Is it because of what you need to tell them?”

Sans thinks. His response is quiet, thoughtful. “i dunno, paps. i really don’t. but i will tell them. i promised.” He reaches out for Papyrus’ hand, holding it tight. “and that means you too.”

Papyrus pulls him into a strong one-armed hug as he smiles with affection. Sans chuckles as they drive the rest of the way to the store.

\-------------

At one point, you open your eyes briefly and notice it’s getting dark outside. Your computer is still playing but you don’t pay much attention, slipping down into a more comfortable position. You fall back asleep.

The next time, it’s completely dark and you turn your head, expecting to see your computer illuminating your room. Except it’s not. It’s sitting closed on your nightstand. Your mind clears as you wake up more, propping yourself up to look around your room. At the foot of your bed you spy a familiarly-shaped, dark form. You see the dull white hue of bone flash in the moonlight as Sans shrugs off his shirt. His scapulae slide smoothly across his back, clicking mutedly against his ribs. He hears you shift and turns to you, eye-lights bright and curious. When they see you, they intensify. You lay back down as he walks around to the side of the bed, slipping in between the cool covers.

You speak, but not much above a whisper, your voice hoarse from sleep. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“i’d say about 3 hours.”

You groan, rolling over to rub your face into your pillow. He chuckles and his hand slides underneath your shirt to run along your back. After earlier, it feels so damn nice to feel your soft skin, your soothing warmth. That you’re safe, and with him.

He catches your muffled voice saying, “Thanks for closing my laptop.”

“heh, no problem babe. i dunno what exactly you’re studying but ‘game grumps’ doesn’t sound very artsy.”

You laugh into your pillow. You turn your head so he can hear you defend yourself. “For your information, it’s a critical analysis of visual media and how the populace consumes it.”

He laughs with you. “can’t argue with that.”

You roll over suddenly to your nightstand and flick on your galaxy display. You scoot back over to Sans and grab his hand. “That’s still yours by the way. I haven’t forgotten.” He tears his eyes away from the ceiling to look into yours. Like they’re the only things he wants to see.

“babe, you’ve given me so much more.”

You’re thankful it’s dark so he can’t see you blush. You barely get out, “Sans…,” before he cuts you off.

“you have. and i want you to know something.” Your heart is hammering in your chest as he continues. He lifts his hand to rest it on your cheek, eyes staring seriously into yours. “i’m not pushing you one way or the other, but i want you to know that if you did want me to touch your soul…i’d do it.”

There it is.

That’s the sign you were waiting for.

Your hand comes up to lay on top of his. You murmur, so quiet that Sans almost misses it, “I want you to.” You say it again, louder, stronger. “I want you to, Sans. It doesn’t have to be now, or tomorrow. But I’d let you.”

He sounds incredulous, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react. “you’d let me?”

“Yes.”

His pupils dim as they glance down to your wrist, his fingers brushing it. The bruises are almost gone, only the barest hint of yellow-green marks remain. “even after what i did?”

“Sans…. Baby, listen to me. If I held it against you, you wouldn’t be here right now. We wouldn’t have had fucking fantastic sex. And I certainly wouldn’t have let you _look_ at my soul. You can’t beat yourself up over this forever.” You smirk at him playfully. “Even if you wanted to. Plus, if you touch my soul, I’m sure you’d see how insignificant it was in the grand scheme of…me.” His arm snakes around your waist, simultaneously moving you and himself closer to each other. His eyes look into yours, searching for any trace of ingenuity. He finds none. Obviously. You feel him relax and you can see the guilt seep out of those deep, beautiful, vivid lights like so many grains of sand through your fingers.

He kisses you, mouth taking your soft lips for his own. The stars above are forgotten, because the only lights present that matter are the ones that reside within each of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ball is rollin', rollin', rollin'. Things may or may not start happening soon. Guilt IS the soul's call to action, after all. But I hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos and hits and you're awesome, stay juuuuuuust like that, DON'T move. 
> 
> Tum-tumtum, tum, TUM: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	26. Guidance

“Yeah, I’d love to join you guys! Can’t pass up good company and good food.”

Papyrus jumps up in the air with a loud whoop that echoes through the quiet neighborhood. You giggle, your breaths creating small puffs of mist. It’s a cool evening, chillier than it has been the past few weeks. It’s just starting to get dark, the blues of night just overtaking the soft pinks of the sunset. You’re walking with the skeleton brothers around their neighborhood, hand-in-hand with Sans, watching Papyrus run circles around you both. It took some coaxing, but in the end, Sans didn’t put up much of a fight as long as he was spending time with you and his brother. You’re almost back to the house when Papyrus runs up to you, bouncing in his boots.

“Human! There is a surprise waiting for you at the house! RACE ME AND YOU MAY RECEIVE IT!” And then he starts running.

You shout, “Hey Papyrus, wait for a second!” He skids to a halt as you jog up to him. As soon as you step past him, you tear off for the house. He gives a shocked yelp before taking off after you. You hear his boots pound behind you and Sans’ loud laughter behind that. The feeling of someone chasing you spurs you faster, making your adrenaline pump. You don’t have a chance though. Papyrus sprints past you, his long legs taking one step for every two of yours. He leaps impressively onto the porch with a triumphant yell. You run up, panting, doubled over with your hands on your knees.

“You…win, Paps.”

“NYEH HEH! You did admirably, friend! For that, we will still give you your surprise.”

You laugh and try to catch your breath as Sans strolls up next to you. You flash him a crooked smile.

“nice try.”

“Yeah…I knew I wasn’t gonna win without a head start. And even then…it was a stretch.”

“it was definitely a long shot.”

You laugh and with the waning strength in your legs, you hop onto Sans’ back. He lets out a loud, “oof,” but, true to form, he doesn’t collapse. He tucks your legs underneath his arms and ambles slowly up the stairs into the house. Once inside, you slide off, giving Sans a pat on the back and a quick kiss to his skull. He chuckles and moves to sit on the couch. You head into the kitchen for a glass of water, listening to Papyrus stomp around his room.

“Friend!” He shouts as he enters the living room. Sans gets up to stand beside him.

You gulp down your water and step out of the kitchen, asking, “Yeah?”

“My brother and I have noticed that you have not yet replaced the bag ruined in your accident.” Which is true. It hasn’t really been a priority, and you just decided to lessen your load and the amount of things you carry around. Though it had been weird for a while not having a comfortable weight on your shoulders when you went to school or otherwise. You listen as he continues, curious. “So, we went ahead and got you a new one!” You still, eyes widening as he procures a dark green backpack from behind his back. He’s nearly vibrating from excitement. “We also took the advice of the salesperson and got you some ‘patches’ for it!” And you see them. You laugh, covering your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you spy the skull and crossbones and other patches you can’t read yet. You cross the room, gently taking the bag from Papyrus, caressing the patches, reading them. One reads: _COOL DUDE_. It has Papyrus written all over it. Another reads: _What’s the artist’s favorite swimming technique? The brushstroke._ You burst into laughter, small tears running down your cheeks. It’s perfect. It’s so Sans and Papyrus. You hug it to your chest and look at the brothers, smiling wide.

“I love it you guys. Thank you so much.”

You wrap one arm around Sans’ shoulders and the other around Papyrus’ middle, bringing them in close. Sans hugs you back as does Papyrus, enthusiastically picking you both up. You let out a loud laugh as he puts you back down. You kiss Sans on the cheekbone and then beckon Papyrus down so you can do the same for him. He smiles, yelling, “WOWIE.”

You slip the backpack on and twirl, posing. “It’s perfect!” Sans chuckles, broad grin lifting his face. He’s glad you like it so much. A lot of it was Papyrus, he’s good at picking out things, but some things Sans did have an input on, like the patches and the color. It doesn’t hold a candle to the actual color of your soul, but, for a backpack, it comes close. He watches you plop down on the couch, fingering and reading the patches, happiness lacing every line of your face. He joins you, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets.

You point to the artist one. “I bet this was Papyrus, wasn’t it?” you say with a smirk.

Sans nods sagely, “you know how much he loves puns. especially mine.” You nod in serious agreement. A small smile graces your lips as you look it over again. You love it. So much. And god, do you just want to tell him you love him, but that hesitant side of you makes you bite your tongue. You clutch the backpack close to your chest.

“Thank you,” you say, genuine gratitude coloring your voice, reflecting in your eyes. Sans’ hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

“of course, babe.” You smile, leaning in to give him a tender kiss to his mouth. He hums, hand pressing harder against your jaw.

When you part, you ask, “So when did you say we were goin’ to Asgore and Toriel’s house?”

“this weekend.”

“Cool. Are Alphys and Undyne gonna come too?”

“that’s the plan.”

“Should I bring anything?”

Papyrus sits down next to you both. “I do not think so.”

Sans nods, “tori likes to cook for everyone.” You furrow your brow, hoping she’ll at least let you help. You’d feel weird just going over with nothing. But you trust the brothers’ judgement. They’ve known them longer anyway.

“Hey Papyrus,” he looks over at you, question in his eye-lights. “So when I got my cast off, I lost all your awesome doodles. Could you draw on my backpack, please?” His eyes brighten, but he looks somewhat cautious.

“Are you sure?”

You smile. “Yeah, I’d really love it if you did. I have a marker you can use.”

“Then YES!”

You laugh and get up from the couch, grabbing your other bag out of Sans’ room. You hand him the silver sharpie and he gets to work scribbling on your new backpack. You smile, warming up from the inside out. You ask Sans as you sit down, “You wanna take a turn?”

He shrugs, grinning. “i’d just draw a blank.” You laugh and give him your best puppy-dog eyes yet. He rolls his and covers yours with his hand. “alright, alright. i’ll sign it.”

“Yay!” He takes his hand back and you bat your eyes at him. “Works every time.”

He leans close, winking. “maybe ‘cause i let ya think it does.”

“Sure, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.” He leans back and grabs your hand, smiling and watching Papyrus. But he thinks about this weekend. He hopes that he can get some answers. Frisk doesn’t remember everything about what they’ve done, or even what Sans has done for that matter. Honestly, neither does Sans. After so many times, things blur together. It’s hard to keep it all straight. But, at least Frisk is _aware_ to some degree. And they’re much wiser than they seem, especially for a seven-year-old. They’ve been through a lot. Maybe they can give him some indication as to how to go about telling you what’s happened. It has to happen though. There’s no way out but through at this point.

\---------------

You, Sans, and Papyrus pull up to Toriel and Asgore’s house. Sans takes your hand, helping you out of the backseat. The three of you walk up to the house, Papyrus leading and you and Sans bringing up the rear, still holding hands. You’re excited for tonight. It’s been a little while since you’ve seen everyone and what’s better than a family meal. Papyrus knocks on the front door, loudly and repeatedly, making you laugh. The door is thrown open, and out flies a bundle of brown and purple, right into Papyrus’ arms.

“Papyrus!”

“TINY HUMAN!”

Toriel is the next one out, greeting you all with open arms, an ecstatic smile, and glittering eyes.

“Hello everyone!”

You step forward, letting go of Sans’ hand to accept her hug. Her soft fur and dress cushion you and there’s that sweet, clean scent once more. You immediately feel at home. She lets you go to hug Sans, but not before giving him a narrow-eyed look that surprises him, brow furrowed in confusion. You miss the exchange as you look up, meeting the calm, regal gaze of Asgore. You grin at him.

“Hi Asgore.”

“Hello ___.” He holds his large arms out and you step into an all-encompassing warm hug. Flowers and tea. Unique, but so soothing. When he lets you go, you’re almost bowled over by Frisk, who wraps their small arms around your middle. You laugh and pick them up in a hug, supporting them against your side as you step inside.

“How ya doin’, cool kid?”

“Good!” They say, their bright smile crinkling and lighting up their dark brown eyes.

“You likin’ living here?”

“Yeah! I’m closer to my friends now!”

You walk into the living room, circling to get a good look at everything. “That’s awesome. We’re glad you moved here too.” You let them go to run around the room with Papyrus. You continue to take in the atmosphere. There’s a large bay window spanning the front of the room, adorned with pots of beautiful flowers. All different colors and hues, but the majority are sunny yellows, a swath of bright gold. The vaulted ceiling is pierced by a large skylight, no doubt something the flowers love. Even in the evening light, augmented by the mild glow of lamps, the house is a _home_. Creamy yellows and blues paint the walls and furniture in soft, comfortable shades. Everything delights your senses. The delicious smells coming from the kitchen, the pictures play in your eyesight, the flowers tickle your nose. You would definitely not mind coming back, coupled with the great people who’ve made this place what it is. You catch Sans talking with Asgore, when Toriel comes up to you, kind eyes catching your right arm.

“I see you are much better! I am glad your arm has healed.”

“Me too. Though I’m sure what you did helped it along. Thank you.” You smile at her. She smiles back, warm paw coming up to squeeze your shoulder.

“Think nothing of it, dear child.”

You let out a soft chuckle, that cozy feeling spreading through you again. “I really love your new place. It feels wonderful.”

She puts her paws together, looking around the living room with a happy gaze. “Thank you. It is a lovely place. We have tried to make it as comfortable as we can.”

“Well it’s beautiful. And,” you turn to the kitchen, “everything smells _delicious_.” Her laugh rings out, tinkling. “Do you need any help?”

She waves her paw, saying, “Oh no, everything is almost done. It is just cooking right now. But thank you for the kind offer.” You laugh and nod, thinking that might happen. Asgore and Sans walk up beside you and Toriel.

Asgore looks down at you and asks, “Would you like to help me make tea?”

You smile up at him, straightening your posture in excitement. “I’d love to.”

He nods, smiling and closing his eyes briefly before leading the way into the kitchen. You flash Sans a grin and two thumbs up before following him. Your eyes take in the large kitchen. A long table is set for everyone, and light wooden cabinets ring the walls. A snail-decorated tile backsplash brightens up the kitchen, reflecting in the stone countertops. You love it. Asgore is filling up a kettle at the sink and you step up beside him, looking at what he’s set out. You don’t recognize any of the teas. You pick up one of the nondescript metal canisters of tea. Welp, that just leaves the smell to tell you what it is. You look up to see Asgore watching you with a bright smile as he puts the kettle to boil.

“Do you mind if I smell?”

He chuckles. “Not at all. Please.”

So you do. You close your eyes, trying to separate the scents. You catch flowers first. Ok, that’s a start. Rose comes to you at the front. It’s one of your favorites. You furrow your brow. Vanilla. But that’s all you can get. “Rose and vanilla?” He nods, letting out a low laugh.

“Yes, as well as elderberry.” He winks. “And some other secret ingredients.” He trades you the other tin for the one in your hands. “Now this one.”

You bring it up. It’s woody. Earthy. Like bark. The spicy tang of cinnamon. Maybe vanilla. Orange too? But you’re not exactly sure. “Cinnamon, definitely. Maybe vanilla again?”

He smiles again. “Very good. Also cloves, and some other odds and ends.”

“Did you make these blends yourself?”

He nods again as he takes the kettle off before it whistles.

You whisper, “Awesome….” His ears twitch and one side of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile, canines poking through his lips and beard. He instructs you, “Put a little of each tea into the diffusers.” You do as he says, carefully packing each one closed.

He asks you as he pours the water into the teapots, “So have you told him yet?” Your head whips around to stare up at him with wide eyes. A veritable deer in the headlights. Does he mean Sans? Is this happening right now? Your mind short-circuits and you try to play coy instead to cover your tracks.

“What?”

He gives you a wry look, raising an eyebrow that says he isn’t even close to being fooled. You must be desperate to think you could’ve gotten past him. “I have been around for much too long to not notice love when I see it, child.” You look back down quickly, swallowing, trying to clear your dry throat. Your fingers fumble around the diffuser as you place them in each pot. You give a weak chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?”

His deep laugh rumbles through the kitchen. “Only to those who look and are aware, do not worry. But…it is not such a bad problem to have.” You laugh with him, relaxing somewhat. His voice is calm, coaxing you back from your nervousness. “I take it you have not then. What keeps you?”

“I’m sure you’ve been in love before.” You glance up at him smiling. He returns it tenfold, but with a hint of bittersweet happiness.

“Yes.”

“Then you probably know why. Taking the leap of faith, all that.”

His rich voice rolls, musing, “Well, would you agree faith is belief without proof?”

You nod. “I accept that definition, yes.”

“I do not think faith applies to your situation, then. The proof is right in front of you, ___.” You blush, looking down again. “I cannot speak for him, but I was in his place once. We all look at our other halves the same way.” You turn, looking over your shoulder to the silhouettes of Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, and Frisk in the living room. Your eyes dance, thinking. Your soul urges you on, agreeing with Asgore. Of course it would. You face him once more.

“Any advice for a lost soul, Asgore?”

He chuckles, flashing you a kind smile. He shakes his head the tiniest bit, massive horns stirring the air. “You are far from lost, my child. Just be brave and trust your instincts. Have _courage_.”

You laugh, tension dispelling as you hug him quickly. He laughs with you, echoing throughout the kitchen. You pull back and say, “You’re such a matchmaker, Asgore. Maybe you should quit the king business.” His laughs get louder as he sets the tea tray, practically booming now. You can’t help but join him as you follow him out of the kitchen.

As soon as he sets down the tray, you hear knocks at the door. That must be Undyne and Alphys. Toriel rises from the couch and over to the door, followed by an excited Papyrus and Frisk. Undyne rushes in, picking her up in a big hug. Even Toriel’s shocked laughter is measured and sweet, regaining her balance gracefully as she’s set down. Alphys steps in to provide a much less physical hug to Toriel, but not lacking in warmth. Meanwhile, Undyne goes to hug Asgore, who surprises her by picking her up.

The sight is incredibly touching in a way as you listen to their laughter. Your feelings are only accentuated when Sans slips his hand in yours as he gets up from the couch. You share a look and a smile that rockets the warmth you’ve been feeling to the ends of your limbs. Maybe it is obvious. Other half…. That’s what Asgore said. Your soul tingles at the prospect and possibility. Sans’ hand tightens on yours as you both walk up to Undyne and Alphys. Undyne picks you and Sans up at once in a spine-crushing hug.

“Hey you lovebirds!”

You laugh breathlessly, wiggling in her grasp. “Hey Undyne.” You look over to Alphys, who waves at you. “Hey Alphys.”

“hey undyne. alph,” Sans forces out in a strained whisper.

Undyne laughs uproariously, entertained by your efforts. She drops you close to the floor. You grab Sans’ arm to steady both you and him as you right yourselves. You let go of his hand so you can both give Alphys a hug. You all sit on the furniture or carpet around the coffee table. Your back is up against Sans’ shins as he sits on the couch next to Asgore and Undyne. Papyrus is next to you on the floor with Alphys and Toriel in the armchairs opposite the couch. Frisk makes their rounds, ending up on Undyne’s lap. Asgore pours everyone a cup of tea and you sit around, catching up. You sip your tea. It’s the rose one, and it’s absolutely delicious. You listen and chime in, just enjoying the atmosphere and company. It’s even nicer than before, without the job of moving looming over everyone’s head.

You’re roused by a chime and Toriel gets up, excited. She rushes off to the kitchen. You smile and take another sip of your tea. She comes back in after a moment, saying proudly, “Dinner is ready!” You set down your cup, taking Papyrus’ outstretched hand. You twist and extend your hand to Sans in turn. He grabs it and once up, lays his hand briefly on the small of your back as he follows you into the dining room. You love when he does that. With every little touch, your mind circles back to him. Man, you’ve got it bad. But your thoughts are interrupted by the amazing spread on the table. Toriel stands at the head of the table, satisfied smile on her face.

“Please sit and enjoy, everyone.”

Everyone claps and shouts their thanks. She blushes and sits down at the head of the table. You all follow. You sit towards the opposite end, Sans on your left then Asgore and Frisk, with Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus sitting across from you. You take a bite of some kind of pie. Your eyebrows raise in delight and surprise. Snails? It’s savory and tangy and you wonder if they’d judge you if you ate it for the rest of your life. Everyone digs in with you. Asgore turns his head towards Sans, asking, “So, you still work in the park, yes?” You listen, interested.

Sans nods, saying, “yep.”

“What would you say if I had another job opportunity for you?”

Sans perks up, his attention caught now. He raises his brow in curiosity. “depends on the job i guess.”

“I’ve realized recently that we need more representation in negotiations.” Asgore smiles at Sans. “I believe you would be excellent.”

Sans’ sockets shoot wide. “me?” Asgore nods. “why?”

“It is no secret you know almost every one of us. Your input on the interests of monsterkind would be invaluable.” Toriel inclines her head in agreement.

Sans’ grin becomes strained, eyes dimming in his sockets the faintest bit. Papyrus doesn’t share his trepidation. He’s excited enough for the both of them. “Sans, this is a wonderful opportunity!”

Undyne shouts, “Yeah! What he said, lazybones!”

Sans fidgets in his chair, not enjoying the eyes or attention he’s getting right now in the slightest. He forces out a pitiful laugh. “not sure i have the guts, asgore.”

Asgore laughs deeply, clapping Sans on the back with a large hand. “You do not have to decide right now. But I thought I would offer. Please let me know what you decide.”

Sans turns to you now. You reach for his hand. Sans practically snatches yours up, searching desperately for answers in your eyes. You smile at him and shrug, whispering, “It’s whatever you decide. I think you’d be great too. But do what feels right _to you_.” He looks down, contemplative expression stealing across his features. He turns back to Asgore.

“if i do take ya up on it, could you help me with somethin’?”

Asgore’s bushy eyebrows raise in a question. “I would do my best. What is your request?”

“could ya help me appeal to the university about my degrees?”

You squeeze Sans’ hand, grinning from ear to ear. You share an excited look with Alphys, eyes glittering behind her glasses.

Asgore chuckles as he grins. “Of course.”

Sans smiles, relaxing. “i’ll let ya know my decision in a couple of days.” Asgore nods before being summoned down by an excited Frisk. Sans turns his attention back to you. He winks at you as his fingers tighten around yours.

\----------------

You all eventually venture outside, enjoying the night and keeping yourselves from passing out into food comas. You end up in a game of tag with Undyne and Papyrus. Asgore, Toriel, and Alphys watch amused from the sidelines. Frisk rushes off to try and join them, but is held back by Sans. They look up at his grinning face, a question glimmering in their dark eyes.

“hold on a sec, kiddo.”

Frisk tilts their head, but tugs on Sans’ hoodie, pointing to his shoulders and smiling. Sans chuckles and picks Frisk up, placing them on his shoulders. Frisk folds their arms on top of his skull, pillowing their chin on top of them. They stand together, watching you, Undyne, and Papyrus play. Sans takes a deep breath. Now’s as good a time as ever.

“hey, frisk.”

They make a humming noise.

“i gotta talk to ya about what went down in the underground.”

Sans feels them stiffen, balling up their hands. He pats their legs, reassuring, “hey, it’s nothin’ bad, don’t worry, kid.” He waits until he feels them relax somewhat before starting again. “i haven’t told ___ about it yet.”

“How come?” Their quiet voice is hard to hear, but he catches it. He shifts his weight.

“haven’t found the right time.” He pauses. “but i promised i’d tell ‘em.”

He waits, feeling that they’re trying to find something to say. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“me too.”

“But you don’t know how to do it, right?”

He chuckles. “am i made of paper, ‘cause ya read me like a book.” They giggle, their small body shaking from their laughter. They quiet down, thinking, drumming their fingers along his skull.

“I think you should be honest. Mom says you should always tell the truth.”

Sans’ voice lowers, darkening. “everything?” He feels them shift, nervous energy radiating off them in waves.

“Well…I think they should know what we’ve done. But that it’s ok now. Chara is gone and I can’t do anything anymore.” Sans nods slowly, trying to not jostle Frisk as well as think everything through carefully.

“But not _everything_.” Their voice gets even softer. “It might make them sad. Or scared.”

“spare them the details.”

They pat his skull. “Yeah, that.”

His voice drops his ominous tone. Becoming more morose now. His eyes follow you as you sprint across the yard after a teasing Undyne. “how do ya think they’ll take it?”

Frisk brightens, surprising Sans with their enthusiasm. “Oh! I think they’ll be ok! They’re very good.” They laugh, high giggles sounding out into the night air. “And fun!” They bend down to whisper to Sans, “And they say bad words a lot.” Sans bursts into low, rolling laughter at that. Yes, you certainly do. And he loves it.

Once he catches his breath, he says to Frisk conspiratorially, “yeah they do. just don’t repeat them. especially in front of tori.”

He feels them giggle again. “I already did, one time. Or two….”

Sans’ laughter builds up again. He bets Tori was not pleased. “how’d ya get out alive?”

Frisk pauses, still giggling. “I told her it was you.”

Sans sputters out into deep laughter, jostling Frisk. No wonder Tori gave him such a look when they arrived. Frisk joins him, gripping onto his skull to keep themselves from falling. You look over to Sans and Frisk, their laughter warming your heart. The scene is really sweet, touching something deep inside of you. You jog over, air dragging through your lungs as you try to calm your heartbeat.

“What’re you boneheads laughin’ about over here?”

Sans laughter continues as Frisk shouts indignantly, “ _I’m_ not a bonehead!” Sans feigns affront, tickling Frisk.

Your laughter joins Sans’ and Frisk’s in a boisterous cacophony. You stick your hands on your hips as you address Frisk’s outburst. “Well, you gotta skull don’tcha?”

“Well…yeah…,” they say, with a small smile as they reach for you. You pluck them off Sans’ shoulders. They continue, pointing up at you, laughing, “That means you’re a bonehead too!”

“Duh,” you say, chuckling. “But you know what else you are?”

Frisk looks up at you with their big, brown eyes. Their mouth is open in confused wonder, waiting for you to revolutionize their world with some knowledge of their identity.

You poke their chest, and whisper, “You’re _it_ ,” before running away to Papyrus and Undyne. Frisk squeals in delight, chasing after you as fast as their legs can carry them. Sans laughs again, watching the scene; you, Undyne, and Papyrus dancing around Frisk, avoiding their tiny clutches. Damn him if it doesn’t make his soul happy, make him love you even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a chapter! YOU get a chapter! EVERYONE GETS A CHAPTER!
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> You're all amazing, thank you so much for reading my lunatic scribblings.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	27. Release

_Have courage_.

These words greet you when you wake up, like an old friend. Have been greeting you incessantly ever since Asgore said them to you. You’re curled around Sans’ back, face pressed against the dense bones of his ribs and spine, right arm thrown over his broad chest. You feel his magic hum quietly, latent in sleep. His hand is curled loosely around yours. Your lips lift in a soft smile before they brush against his back. His magic is so sensitive; you feel the vibrations increase against your lips. It’s pretty incredible when you think about it. _He’s_ pretty incredible. And that’s why you resolve yourself. Today is the day. Have courage. You’ve gotten more advice and reassurance than most people get about this. You’ve made the first move before. Just fuckin’ do it, ___. Your nerves jitter and dance as you start to accept that this is gonna happen. Ok, ok, now you just have to figure out _how_ to do it. Part of you wants to make it special, but…that doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t need any fancy dressing. It’s beautiful all by itself. You laugh to yourself, thinking _wow what a sickeningly sweet thought._ But…it’s kinda true. No need to be ashamed. Your mind wanders…it needs someplace calm. You smile. You know the perfect place.

The park.

You kiss his back one more time, before sliding stealthily out of bed. You stretch, your muscles warming up. You tug on some clothes and step out of Sans’ room. You pad out into the living room, leaning over to get a good look outside the front window. It’s late morning. Almost noon. But another lovely day. Barely any clouds in the sky and it looks like there’s a nice breeze. You smile and make your way to the kitchen to make coffee for you both. Papyrus had spent the night over at Undyne and Alphys’ so he could train with Undyne over the weekend. You fill up two mugs with the steaming coffee and take a deep breath. The wonderful scent permeates the air, making you sigh. You walk back to Sans’ room, pushing the door ajar with your foot. Sans hasn’t moved, bare bones partially covered by the sheet, striped gold from the morning light. You cross the room, setting his mug on the nightstand as you lift yourself carefully onto your side of the bed. You pick up your phone, scrolling through emails and notifications as you sip your coffee. A grumble sounds through the air several minutes later, causing you to look over and laugh.

You’re met by one drowsy eye.

His lights are dim and bleary from sleep, but relaxed if the easy smile on his face is any indication.

“Good morning, baby.”

Another grumble that you guess could count as a salutation. It makes you chuckle again. He rolls over to his other side, facing you. He presses his face into your hip as he throws his arm across your lap and around your waist. Your soul warms. You lay your hand on his back, stroking the strong bones of his ribs. His arm tightens around you as he stretches into your touch, bones rattling like so many marbles.

“Whenever you’re ready to get up, I made a cuppa joe for ya.”

He lifts up your shirt to place a long, lazy kiss against your bare waist. Your loud laugh resonates through the room, bolstered by the sweetness and the slight tickling quality. He chuckles before letting you go and sitting up, back against the headboard. You hand him his mug. He takes it, but not before toasting your mug with his, saying, “to the daily grind,” in his rough, sleep-ridden voice. Your smile broadens, laughs trickling out.

“So I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park today? Supposed to be nice outside,” you say conversationally.

“sure.”

You nod, smiling into your mug. Phase 1 successful. Phase 2 is a go. Good luck. You try to calm yourself, but your heartbeat is hard to take control of, not to mention your soul, which could adequately be described as flipping its shit.

Sans looks over to you. Your smile is soft as you look at your phone but when he pays more attention, he notices your soul. He closes his eyes, listening. It’s fluttering, excited, hopeful. He takes another sip of his coffee. He wonders what in the world you could be thinking to make you feel that way…. He shrugs. He’ll find out eventually. You’re not one to keep things to yourself for long.

“It’s pretty cool Asgore offered you a job,” you say, changing the subject.

Sans’ hands wrap around the hot mug, rolling it between his bones. They make small ticking sounds, breaking up his thoughtful silence. “i s’pose. still not sure what to think about it.”

“’Cause you don’t think you’d do a good job? Which is silly,” you whisper against his skull with a smile.

He chuckles. “maybe? just a lotta responsibility, ya know? don’t wanna let people down.”

You take a sip from your mug. “I don’t think Asgore misplaces his trust. Seems like he’s a good judge of character. That goes for Toriel, too.”

Sans grunts. “maybe too good….”

“Well, look at it this way. Do you believe in them? Papyrus? Me?”

He turns to look at you, confused. “well…yeah?”

“Then just believe in the ones that believe in you.” His brow raises and he looks back down at his mug, contemplative.

“would be cool to get my degrees back.”

A grin splits your face. “I thought that was really awesome. And I know Alphys was stoked, too.”

He smiles too, placing a long kiss on your cheek. “well i wouldn’t’ve asked if it weren’t for you.”

You giggle, smirking. “Is one of your degrees for flattery and the other for bullshitting?” He barks out a laugh against your face, tickling your skin. You laugh in return. He takes both your mugs and places them on the nightstand. His arms pull you back down in bed and he attacks your throat, kissing and biting, tickling you. Your giggles increase, interspersed with soft gasps.

“i’d still be doctor though, so you can call me dr. sans.” He growls playfully. “think i’d like that.”

You laugh, extending your neck so he can have more access, which he accepts gratefully. “Only…oh, yeah, _right there_ ,” you giggle, panting out, “only if you wear a lab coat.”

He rumbles, groaning as your hands spread along his ribs. “only if you take it off.”

You chuckle low in your throat, fingers latching onto his ribs. You say in your breathiest and sexiest tone, “Let me help you with your coat, _Dr. Sans_ ….”

His growls increase and he bites down gently on your neck, tongue appearing to glide smoothly over your skin. You moan now, laughter dying out in the throat Sans is so generously attending to. “we should just stay inside today,” he muses against your skin. Your world is thrown sharply into focus at that, pulling you from the realm of lust, into a very different area of desire. Your heart and soul start fluttering again. Sans wouldn’t have picked up on it, if it weren’t for his own responding. His eyes open, gasping just the slightest bit at that pounding feeling. He looks down into your eager eyes. He asks, “everything ok?”

You smile, a bit breathless. “Yeah. I’m good.” He bends down to kiss your lips tenderly. Your hands slide up and around his neck, stroking his vertebrae as you stretch against him. “But we should _definitely_ go to the park today,” you hedge, trying your best to act nonchalant.

He chuckles. “fine. but,” he starts kissing down your jaw, to your throat, to your chest…to your abdomen…. “i need to finish something first.”

You release a shuddering gasp.

Well…the park can wait a bit.

\-----------------

You tug on your coat. You stepped outside and found it cooler than anticipated, so you’re dressing warmly. You sigh, feeling satisfied as you look over at Sans. He’s even switching out his regular getup for long pants and a thicker hoodie. He slips it over his skull and shakes, getting comfortable. He stuffs his hands in the pockets and tucks his chin under the lip, closing his eye-sockets in contentment. The sight makes you smile. You walk over to him, kissing his brow as you play with the hood, plucking at it.

“Do you actually get cold enough for all that?” You smirk.

He chuckles, grasping your hand. “nah, i just like to be bundled up.”

“Like a burrito!” You chuckle, eyes lighting up, “A handsome, handsome burrito.”

“oh yeah? let’s taco ‘bout that,” he purrs as he winks at you, drawing you close. You laugh, low and warm as you press a soft kiss to his cheekbone.

“ya ready, babe?” You nod and hug him tight, closing your eyes. You drop.

When you touch down, you open your eyes and look around. Sans has deposited you in a shady copse of pines and sycamores. Leaves flutter down as a cold, smooth breeze rustles through the trees, creating smaller shadows that dance between the larger ones. You tilt your head back and breathe in the chilly, sweet air. You feel a simultaneously cool and warm kiss brush across your throat before releasing you. You smile at Sans, who’s gazing at you with such intensity and fondness. His hand drops to grab yours, tugging you along. You chuckle and trail after him. He leads you out of the trees and along the path to the lake. Once he finds a suitable spot, he plops down on the ground and you laugh as he lays back on the grass. You follow and lay shoulder to shoulder. The ground is cold, but quickly warms beneath your body. The breeze sneaks through your open coat, causing you to shiver. You zip it up and once you’re comfortable, you look up at the sky. The sun is high and weak, beating softly upon your face; its oftentimes abrasive heat now just a gentle caress. You block out all thoughts that aren’t Sans or the surrounding environment.

The birds fly over, chirping their fleeting hellos and goodbyes, ushered along by the rising currents. The wind also brings along voices of passersby, dogs barking, children laughing. All the sounds of life. You feel a finger brush the side of your hand. It slides along, smooth, humming its warmth before the rest intertwine with yours.

This is it. Take the plunge, ___. Have courage.

You turn your head to Sans. His eyes are closed, basking in the sun. Now or never.

“Sans.” Your body starts trembling from adrenaline.

He turns his head to face you, eyes opening, lights burning into yours.

You take a deep breath. “I want to tell you something.” You see his eyes widen. “You don’t have to return it, but…I need to say it, ok?”

He can feel the lights of his eyes shrink, dimming.

No.

No, no, no, not _now_. He didn’t think you’d do this so soon. He needed to tell you about what happened first. He’s been thrust on the fast track with his plans because of your frustratingly wonderful headstrong personality. His soul and magic are flaring and dying, unstable, mirroring his emotions. He feels so heavy. Anxiety crashes into his chest, menacing and dire, when, by all rights, he should be ecstatic. One thought shouts more loudly than all the others crowding in his mind. He has to stop you. Stop you before you say something you’ll regret, no matter how much he wants to hear it and return it.

Your nerves are nearly exploding and just as you’re about to say it, say what’s in your soul, he sits up quickly. Your words experience a swift demise in your throat. You follow him slowly, stomach dropping. At least he hasn’t let go of your hand. You think your heart might follow your stomach if he did. You don’t think you’d have a heart _left_ if he did that. But, in fact, he’s holding it so tight that it’s close to being uncomfortable. You’re staring at him, other hand twisting your jacket. It seems fitting, considering how your insides feel right now.

“___....” Sans’ voice is sad and shaking. Scared?

Worry lances through you, but you’re unable to speak. He turns to you, and his eyes widen when he sees you, distressed, almost folded in on yourself. His soul wrenches in agony. You must think the worst. That he doesn’t want to hear what you have to say. But, in all actuality, he would die to hear you speak the words he’s sure you’re going to say. His hands come up to grab your shoulders, eyes meeting yours, coaxing you to look at him.

“babe. i…i know what you’re gonna say. and by the delta fucking rune do i wanna hear it. but…i need to tell you something first.”

Well…at least he wants to hear it. Eventually. You sigh. Your voice is quiet as you respond, “I mean…it’s not like it’ll affect what I say, or how I feel.”

His fingers dig into your arms. “it might…. you _need_ to know. i _want_ you to know. i promised.” He pauses. “can we go back home?” His eye-lights are dim and anxious. You nod, a cold feeling spreading through you, blood like ice in your veins.

“Whatever you need.” He stands, helping you up. You both walk back to the shaded area where you arrived, and he draws you close, clutching you to him. You rest your head against his, closing your eyes. You feel the familiar drop and immediate reemergence. You try pulling away, but Sans holds on a bit longer. You hear his voice in your ear. It’s quiet, but fervent and heated. Insistent.

“you know that i care about you, right? this doesn’t change that. _please_ believe me when i say it has nothing to do with how i feel about you.”

You think for a moment. He’s right. He never said it would change how he felt about you. Just that it might affect how _you_ feel about _him_. Which is stupid, you think viciously. You can’t imagine what could possibly change your mind that you love him. But…this is for him. He needs to say it. And you need to hear it. He’ll finally be able to get this weight off of his chest. You nod, and you feel him relax somewhat. He pulls back, hands coming up to either side of your face. His face looks so strained. You press your lips to his mouth, showing him that it’s ok. That you’re willing to listen. He groans, like he’s pained, closing his eyes tight. When he pulls away, it’s with effort. You step back and sit down on his bed, watching him pace back and forth like a caged animal. His eyes dart back and forth in his sockets, and his brow becomes more and more creased the more he paces.

He growls in frustration. “i don’t know where to start.”

You run your fingers through your hair as you think. “Um…. Well, maybe start with your nightmare? It has to do with that right?”

He nods, looking off, balling his hands in his pockets. “yeah. ok. so, you know how i said paps and others were gone in it?”

You nod, leading him. “They weren’t just gone, though…. They were dead weren’t they?”

“yes,” he grinds out.

“Ok. But it was just a nightmare. Paps is alive,” you reason.

His voice is quiet. “it wasn’t just a nightmare.” You tilt your head slowly, getting a good look at him. He continues, “it was real.” Your eyebrows raise.

“god that sounds so crazy, right?” His dimming eyes shoot over to you, close to wild, rimmed with tears. You need to bring him back. Get him back on track.

“Sans…take a deep breath. Help me understand.”

He runs his trembling hands over his skull, looking up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. Good. “ok…. the reason it’s real is because down in the underground, time didn’t work the same way you think it does. there were multiple timelines that happened.” He growls again, digging the heels of his palms into his sockets. “that sounds even crazier….”

Your jaw goes slack, eyes widening, fingers grabbing the sheets. Timelines? Sans has given you no reason that he’d lie to you so far. And why would he make something like this up to mess with you? You almost don’t believe it, but you can’t ignore the facts. He’s a scientist, there’s no way he hasn’t thought this through top to bottom, backwards and forwards to try and make sense of it. So you’ll follow his lead. Like a scientist.

You hold up your hands, trying to visualize everything. “Ok…ok. So. You’re talking about timelines…. Like, many-worlds theory?”

He looks relieved that you’re even staying to make sense of it. “kind of. there was a reason for it though. it was frisk.”

“Frisk?” You can’t disguise the shock in your voice now. He nods, pained expression back.

“they were able to create a fixed point in time and go back to it or reset before it. that’s what created the multiple timelines.”

Your mind is racing, bursting to the brim with questions. This is unreal. You look around the room, trying to sort out the deluge of thoughts in your head. You’re close to being overwhelmed, starting to breathe rapidly. You need to calm down and fast, because you’re supposed to be here for Sans. There’s no time for you right now. You get up suddenly, startling Sans. He looks terrified for a second, moving to reach out for you. He must think you’re leaving.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just trying to…sort myself.” You pace around the room much like Sans was. You stop with your hands on your hips, half-turning to him.

“Why would they need to do that? Create multiple timelines in the first place?”

“a lot of reasons. frisk is just a kid. they weren’t always successful in getting through the underground. and you know what asgore and undyne were doing.”

“They died?” your voice incredulous.

“in those timelines, yes. but…sometimes, they didn’t come back as frisk. something got to them down there. made them do things.” Dust. Visions of dust, everywhere. Clouding his mind. His implication is screaming in your face.

You turn to him, face aghast. “They _killed_ people? _Papyrus_?”

“it wasn’t exactly them, but yes.” He forces out.

“Oh my god….” Your hand covers your mouth as you think about what he said. A horrifying thought comes to you. You stride over to him, taking hold of his arms. Tears spill from his sockets. You ask, voice full of emotion. “Did they kill _you_?”

He responds, voice breaking into shards that pierce your soul, “sometimes. they _tried_ a lot of other times. i…i-i….” He looks away, anywhere but your eyes. He screws them shut as his hands latch onto your jacket. You hear the fabric groan and stretch with the force he’s inflicting on it. “you have to understand. i _had_ to. they would have destroyed everything. sometimes they already had. they killed paps…they couldn’t just get away with that!” He looks at you now, left eye flashing blue before both disappear altogether from his depthless sockets. His voice plummets to a deathly pitch as he continues, “i killed them. i’ve killed them so many times, i’ve lost count.” Chills spike cold and sharp down your spine. But you don’t let him go. If anything, your grip gets stronger. You’re aching for him. You can’t imagine…. Would never have guessed….

“Sans, baby….”

But he forges on, completely overtaken, shaking. “who kills kids? i’m a _murderer_. god you must hate me….”

You cut him off, lunging at him, pulling him into a fierce hug. You hiss against his skull. “Sans, _shut up_.” His arms wrap around you, one around your waist, the other fisting in your hair. He’s sobbing. Your voice is hard, trying to make him understand. “Sans, do you remember what I said when you told me Asgore killed children?” When he doesn’t respond, you squeeze him. “ _Do you_?”

“yes,” he whispers.

“Good. You’re no different as far as I’m concerned. You had your reasons. I _can’t_ judge you. And I won’t. I don’t care what happened or what you did. This is the only timeline that matters. From the way you treat Frisk now, it’s obvious you love them. It _can’t_ have been easy. I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through….” You go quiet. Your mind is _trying_ to imagine.

_So many times._

_He’s lost count_ ….

He presses his skull into your neck. You gasp at the force of your realization.

“God, Sans…. You remember every time?”

He takes a couple of slow breaths before responding, voice thick, “most. they blur together though.”

Your mind spirals, everything coming together in a blinding display of clarity. “Oh my god…. No one else knows do they…. You’ve…shit, you’ve had to keep this _all to yourself_ ,” you wrestle his grip on you to pull back and look into his eyes, hands on either side of his face. “Are you fucking _ok_?”

A watery chuckle tumbles out of him as he leans into your touch. “some days. frisk knows to some degree, but…,” he trails off, shrugging. The overwhelming hurt you feel for him is spectacularly encompassing, forcing tears to fall from your own eyes.

“Oh, Sans.” You pull him into another hug. “I’m so sorry…. I had no idea…,” you murmur against his skull.

He shakes his head. “it’s not your fault, babe.” You don’t know what to say. So you hold him instead. Just being there for him. After a while, another question comes to you. One that makes you stiffen with sobering dread. A possibility that really and truly scares you to your core.

“Can Frisk still mess with time?”

His answer is a godsend. “no, baby. not anymore. they lost that ability when whatever was inside them left.”

You sigh, your relief palpable. “Thank god….” He only squeezes you tighter before pulling back to gaze at you. His face is sad and resigned, causing you confusion.

“if this changes how you feel about me, i understand. i just hope–” But you cut him off, placing your hands on his mouth.

“I SWEAR to fucking christ, if you say ‘I hope we can stay friends,’ I will punch you in that stupid, charming-ass grin.” You and Sans stare at each other for a long moment, your anger matching his surprise. You both sputter into relieved laughter, the ridiculous levels of anger in your statement snapping the strained atmosphere. You say in between chuckles, “I fuckin’ will. Pow, right in the kisser.” His eye-lights brighten for the first time tonight, taking their rightful place in his dark sockets. God, it’s so good to see them. You lift your hands from his mouth, sliding them across his cheekbones, wiping the wet tracks left by his tears. He does the same for you.

“Now…will you let me finish what I wanted to say in the park?”

“ _yes_.”

You take a deep breath. “Sans. I wanted to say that…that I love you.” Your smile grows, dispelling the tension you’ve held for the last couple hours. “I hope I don’t scare the shit out of you, but I do. I fucking love you, Sans. With what feels like my whole soul.” You’ve only just stopped yourself from sounding more like an idiot when Sans tugs you close, kissing you passionately. His hands cradle your face, eventually wrapping themselves around to the back of your head and shoulders. It literally steals your breath away. You’re not sure you had any left.

He murmurs against your lips in between kisses, “i love you too. so goddamn much, ___.” You melt. Melting from him, melting from the fire that’s springing up inside of you. You almost can’t believe it.

“You do?” You gasp out.

He groans, pressing your body flush against his. “yes. i _love_ you.” Your soul soars and you laugh, unrestrained, ecstatic. Sans laughs with you, picking you up to spin you around. You’re crying again. This time true, happy tears. Your residual laughs escape your lips, brushing across Sans’ face.

“I love you Sans. We’re a team. I’ll help you through anything. I’m here for you for however long you want me.” You kiss him with an ecstatic smile. “Or until I get tired of your jokes,” you tease. He bursts into laughter, pressing his forehead against yours.

He’s almost afraid to believe you’re real. But he does. You’re real. You’re here. You’re his and he’s yours. It’s going to take a long time to reconcile what he’s experienced, what he’s done, but if you’re there, it’s bearable. Possible. He feels like he can do anything with you beside him.

“is forever too cliché?”

You laugh, wiping your eyes. “Nah. Sounds like an adventure. A wonderfully sappy adventure.”

He laughs with you, the same tension finally releasing his bones. It’s out. It’s finally out. He showed you that poisonous side of him and you didn’t run. Thank the stars you didn’t run. He’s so thankful and, god, impressed. To almost everyone, time is a constant, something that can be relied upon almost explicitly. He’s certain not many people would react so well to having their whole way for structuring the world around them yanked out from under their feet and turned on its head. Not only that, but you also know what he’s done. You met it head-on, strong and brave. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He doesn’t have to worry about hiding things anymore, not from you at least. And he can work on healing. He has someone to turn to. He grabs your hand.

“let’s go outside.”

He leads you out to their backyard. It’s not huge, but it’s a good size, edged by a strip of woods. You both lay down in the middle of the yard, nestled in the cool grass. The sun is gone now, hidden by the horizon, letting the night fall soft and deep over the world. You can almost see the stars now. They’re not very bright, due to the light pollution of the city, but they’re there. When you look over to Sans, you think that’s all he needs though. Just the knowledge that they’re there. You look back up.

“What did you think when you first saw them?” The question hangs in the cool air. His fingers massage yours.

“i thought i was dreaming. after so long… i didn’t think it was possible. especially if it was happening to me.” You squeeze his hand. “but it was. i didn’t think the dark could be so colorful and full of…light.” He looks over to you, faint smile on his face, voice blanketed with nostalgia. “we had a cavern with crystals in the ceiling. glowed, ya know? called it the wishing room. nice, in its own right. but… not even _close_ to this.” You listen, enraptured. You can’t even think of never seeing the night sky. It’s always just _been_ there. Vast, all-encompassing, constant.

“Would you ever go back and see what it’s like now?” He doesn’t answer right away and you worry that you might’ve overstepped your bounds. Your words rush out of your mouth. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” His thumb massages your hand as he chuckles quietly.

“no, don’t worry. was just thinking.” He pauses. “i don’t think i would. too many memories…. everything that matters is up here. i’ve had my fill of caves. don’t think i wanna go underground ever again.”

You scoot closer to rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t blame you.”

“do ya like caves?”

You throw your other arm out on the grass with a dull rustle. “Hmm…. Nah. They’re interesting, I suppose. But I like my wide, open spaces. The thought of being stuck in a tight place is…blegh.” The anxiety makes you shudder.

He turns his skull to kiss your hair, catching your woodsmoke and coffee scent. It’s soothing. “i can dig it.” He feels and hears you laugh and his grin stretches. His emotions spur him on. He whispers into your hair, “thank you. for everything.”

You turn onto your elbow to face him, left arm coming up to rest on his chest. You pillow your chin on top, gazing at him fondly. His arm moves to curl around your back. “Of course, babe. I’m just glad you were able to get it off your chest. It’s worse to keep it all inside. We all need help, right?”

He nods, his eye-lights made brighter and more vivid by the dark. “i don’t wanna bother you with all my problems though.”

You roll your eyes. “Sans, we’re a team. I’m here for you and you’re here for me. It doesn’t matter what it is, if it bothers you and you need to talk about it, I’ll be there. Know that, ok?”

The cool, hard fingers of his right hand come up to stroke your cheek. “i love you.”

“And I love you.” It feels so good to say. You and Sans lay together for a while, enjoying the nighttime and letting the intense emotions of earlier seep away. The night seems to eat them up, leaving nothing but the smooth whistle of the wind and the chirps of crickets and animals of the dark as the background to your contentment. Eventually you sit up, stretching your exhausted body. Sans follows you, standing up. He holds his hands out to you. You smile and take them. He pulls you up but bends suddenly, throwing you over his shoulder. You yelp as he straightens, wheezing from the shock and force of your laughter. His deep chuckles tickle your belly. You squirm and you feel his arm tighten around the backs of your thighs.

“stop movin’ or i’m gonna drop ya.”

You force out between your laughs, “Well stop _tickling_ me!” He can’t help but laugh harder as he walks inside the house.

“what if ticklin’ ya tickles my fancy?”

“Then there’ll be retribution, I assure you,” you gasp.

“what, like tickling _me_?” He ambles slowly down the hall.

“Psh, no. I’m no newb. Worse.” His hands pinch your thighs, making you squeal in laughter.

“oh yeah? then what, sweetheart?”

“I’d… _ohmygod_ _SANS_ ,” you practically yell through your wheezes. “I’d totally withhold sex. Don’t think I won’t!” You dissolve into laughter, twisting in his grip.

He barks out a laugh. “while that is scary, you’d wanna jump these bones just as bad. you can’t stay away for long.” He growls playfully, nipping the skin of your hip exposed from your pushed-up jacket. You giggle, yelling, “Cheater!” His laughs get louder and deeper as he walks into his room. He finally sets you down on the floor, and you catch your breath, huffing. He tugs you close, grinning smugly at you. You stick your tongue out at him.

“You’re a butt.”

“joke’s on you, i don’t have one.”

“You defy logic, ‘cause you’re still a butt.”

“but you still love me.”

A grin splits your face, reaching your eyes. “I guess I do.”

He kisses you at that. His fingers trail, coming to rest on the zipper of your jacket. He draws it down slowly, slipping his hands inside to push it off your shoulders. He throws it in the general direction of his dresser. He misses and when it hits the floor, you can’t help the flood of chuckles that slip from your mouth. He laughs too, mouth never leaving yours. You do the same with his hoodie. You continue undressing each other. Taking your time. It’s intimate, in a relaxing way. You take each other’s bodies in, no pressure from the _need_ for sex or anything. You slip into his bed, sliding between cool sheets. He follows you, arm draping over your back, your leg gliding between his femurs, tangling together. Your fingers latch on lightly to his ribs as you kiss slowly. When you break apart, it’s with satisfied sighs. You press your forehead to his, memorizing his face like you know he’s doing with yours. Your soul is humming. You lift his arm and take his hand. Your thumb strokes his palm before you draw it close, placing it flat against your chest to rest between your breasts. You close your eyes, smiling, feeling him, feeling your soul react to him.

Sans is absorbed. He’s memorizing your face, your body, and now your soul. His magic runs through him, focusing around his hand. It pushes at him, impatient to feel your soul. All it wants, _he_ wants, is you. He holds it at bay, instead getting acquainted with the way your soul sings. Its timbre, its depth of harmony. He closes his sockets too. You both fall asleep.

Listening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Smooches you all*
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com (I wrote a really sad drabble and posted it there! CHECK IT YO)


	28. Daybreak*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty fun/funny smut interspersed in the first half BEWARE

Sans opens his eyes slowly. He blinks, taking in his room. He lets out a sigh so deep it resonates when he feels your weight on him. You’re wrapped around his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Your hand lays loose and relaxed on his sternum. His mouth curls into a smile. He lifts his hand to stroke up your arm, coming to grasp your hand. He closes his eyes again, thinking about yesterday. His soul feels lighter. So much lighter comparatively, it’s not even a contest. You don’t know how much you mean to him. Hopefully, when he touches your soul, he can give you a sense of just how much that is. He presses his mouth against your hair, nuzzling the silky strands. They tickle his face, but he doesn’t really care. He likes it. With every breath, he catches your unique and wonderful scent mixed with his. It makes his bones rattle, breaking the silence with their muted clicks. His arms tighten around you. You squeeze him weakly in response, grumbling as you shift higher. You arm moves up to circle around his neck, tucking your face into his collarbone. He grins, love filling him. He closes his sockets again, not exactly falling back asleep. Rather, he’s just listening to you breathe low and even against him. The constancy of you, in your presence, in your breath is more than enough for him.

He opens his sockets when he feels your lips press to his collarbone. His arms bring you closer as he rumbles his approval. You kiss his collarbone again, this time biting the tiniest bit. He groans and rubs your back. You lift your head to smile brightly at him. Your eyes are sleepy, but lidded with desire, your hair ruffled in a very sexy way Sans thinks.

“morning,” he says.

“Mmm, good morning,” you answer as you bend down to kiss his neck.

“it _is_ a good morning…,” he sighs.

“How about we make it even better,” you murmur, your lips trailing down to his sternum.

“what do you have in mind,” he breathes out, moving languidly underneath your body.

“A surprise,” you say as you smile against his ribs, tongue tracing the bones. You move lower until you’re hovering over his hips. Your hands stroke his spine and lower ribs, making him groan. “Gonna need some sweet blue action down here though.” He chuckles as his eye flares. You see the blue glow of his magic travel down his chest cavity and pool around his pelvis, manifesting his cock. You look back up at him and flash him a naughty smirk as your hand wraps around it. He closes his eyes and shudders. You start to move your hand up and down his length. Your mouth starts to water in anticipation, anxious for what’s next, for how he’ll react. After a few minutes of this, you move your head close and lick the head, kissing him gently. Sans’ hips jerk as he gasps. You smile and lick again, moving your tongue around the circumference this time. When you place him in your mouth is when Sans unwinds. The tension in him ebbs with every stroke from you. His hand tangles in your hair as he moans, low and long. You start to bob your head back and forth, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck, tongue swirling. One hand joins your mouth while the other finds its way to his spine. You want to make him feel incredible. If there’s anyone who deserves it, it’s him. Sans makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan and it is so completely animalistic that you echo his moan. Knowing you can make him come undone like this is both empowering and erotic. You love it. When Sans’ hips start to move more, his hands come to rest on your shoulders, forcing you to stop and release him, albeit a bit reluctant. He groans as you let go and look up at him, satisfactory smile spreading across your face. The look on his face sends you reeling though. It’s hungry, the blue flames of his eye casting flickering shadows across his face, his grin wide and predatory, canines showing ominously. But mixed in it is a wash of love and amazement.

You crawl up and rest on top of him. He enters you as you lower yourself, gasping at the sensation. San’s fingers are digging into your hips. Like he can’t get enough. You sit up and arch your back. Heated shivers track down your spine in colorful flashes as your hands grasp the bones of his forearms. _You_ can’t get enough of this feeling; the feeling of him buried so far inside of you it seems like he’s your new center. You’re panting as you look back at him, mouth open in an excited grin. He’s staring intensely at you, hands stroking up your abdomen. His hips thrust up and you tilt forward, moan ending in a soft laugh.

“Sans….” He thrusts up again. You gasp. All coherent thought leaves your mind. Your body takes over, wanting more. _Needing_ more. You start moving, rocking back and forth.

“yes, baby…let go….” You can’t speak, eyes closed in pleasure, mouth agape in silent moans. Your breath shudders as you focus on him sliding in and out of you. Your hips meet the thrust of his, falling into a rhythm that builds upon itself. You curl over him like a blanket, back hunched. You kiss Sans madly, tongue slipping over his canines. He groans, hands kneading your breasts, tweaking your nipples. You moan loud now; the coupling of intense stimulation is nearing the realm of too much. Your body is aching for release. He picks up the pace and you place your forehead onto his, both gasping, searching for that mutual end.

“I love you,” you whisper in between pants.

He groans, shuddering. “i love you too.” His fingers massage your breasts one more time and you cry out, trembling from the force of your orgasm. His eye blazes, warm and tender flames lick your skin and his skull as he watches you climax, unrestrained with his name on your beautiful lips. The sight sends him to still and push one last time into you, a ragged moan vibrating throughout his chest. You collapse on top of him, utterly spent. Sans holds you to his chest, exhausted and content. His hand moves to run through your hair, scratching your scalp. You hum and kiss his neck, unhurried.

“that was…wow.” You giggle and nuzzle his chin.

“It was.”

“really…anytime you wanna do that…i’m down to clown.”

You chuckle and press your lips to his mouth one last time before rolling off to the side with a heavy sigh. He turns to face you, propping his skull on his arm. His other hand trails lazily over your stomach and up your chest and back down, making a slow, intimate circle. You feel his movements become drawn out, coming to rest on your sternum. Your chest warms and his hand buzzes, tickling your skin. You let out a long hum and look at him. His sockets are closed, the bones of his brow wrinkling the slightest bit.

You ask, “Whatcha doin’?”

He opens his eyes halfway, gazing at you with glazed pupils. “listening,” he whispers.

“My soul?” He nods. “Does it make a sound?”

The lights of his eyes glisten in the morning sun. “yeah.”

“What does it sound like?”

He smiles and says, “beautiful.” You laugh and roll your eyes, but his hand tingles more and your mirth falls away into a surprised inhale. “i’m serious.”

“But what’s it _sound_ like?” you urge.

“singing.” You just stare at him with wide eyes.

“You can hear that?” He nods again, closing his eyes once more. You look down at his hand. “Do you need magic for that?”

His voice is low and quiet, almost distracted. “dunno. maybe. makes it easier to hear i think.”

You think for a minute. From what you know so far of souls, is that magic is needed to touch it. It would stand to reason that it would be needed to hear it too. You think about him touching yours. If, when he touches it, you’d be able to feel him too, and so, hear as well. “Do you think I’d be able to hear yours if you touched mine?”

He raises a brow bone and opens one contemplative eye. It looks off. “seems like a logical hypothesis.” He presses down on your chest a bit more and the warmth spreads. He’s staring at your sternum with such intensity, like he’s being drawn in. Called. “only one way to find out…,” he murmurs almost to himself, voice taking on a faraway quality. It’s starting to become hard to focus. The humming is building, growing, seeping into your muscles, your bones, your being. It casts a delicious fog over your mind, encompassing you so completely you almost forget yourself. It feels so incredible, and coupled with the fact it’s Sans makes it that much more wonderful. But just as you’re being overcome, a feeling deep inside you pulls back, reluctant, fearful to a small degree. It wants him, that similar part of him, but doesn’t know what will happen, and that doubt latches fierce hooks into your body. The jolt causes you to gasp sharply, your hand flying up to grasp Sans’ glowing hand. He’s startled from his hazy stupor, eyes shooting open wide, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his actions.

His voice is unsteady, “___? i’m sorry, i d-didn’t mean to–”

“Hey,” you cut him off, your voice equally weak and unstable. “It’s alright. I don’t really know what happened either?” Your smile is nervous and sheepish.

He sits up with a sharp jerk, squeezing your hand. “i was stupid that’s what happened. i should never have let myself go that far without asking you,” he growls at himself. You sit up and flash him a genuine smile. He seems reluctant to share it.

“It’s really ok. I would have let you. I already told you I would. I just guess…my soul doesn’t know what’s gonna happen.”

He looks down at your joined hands. “i don’t really know myself…but know that i’d never hurt you.” You nod, smiling at him. He returns it now, bringing up your hand to press a soft kiss to the top of it. “relax. i’ll make us coffee.”

“Thanks, babe,” you sigh as you lay back down.

He gets up from bed and tugs on a pair of shorts, stuffing his hands in the pockets as he walks out of his room to the kitchen. His smile falls as he goes. How could he let himself get carried away like that? He’s usually so careful. What happened? He thinks back. It’s strange. He almost doesn’t remember, it’s so fuzzy. He remembers you asking if you’d be able to hear it if he touched your soul. But then…his magic took over. It rushed at the prospect, excited, and it overwhelmed his logical mind. Before he knew it, he was caught in the rising tide, dragged out into the sea of your soul. It wanted you, so completely and totally that…that he’s reminded of a sobering memory.

The king and queen’s son.

He shakes his head. No… _no._ There’s no way he’d let himself go that far.

He starts making the coffee, movements wooden as he thinks. He’s not entirely sure on the specifics of soul-absorption; but the circumstances seem clear. And he _knows_ that he’d never do that. It’s not even a possibility. His mind drifts to it nevertheless, no matter how implausible. But the fact that his magic can so easily take control of him is unsettling in and of itself. It’s still not enough to deter him from touching your soul. Too much of him wants that, magic or not. He’ll just have to be aware and even more careful now. Not let his guard down so easily. He fills two mugs and carries them back to the room. When he steps in, his smile comes back of its own volition. You’re sprawled across the bed, stretching your body. He’s captivated by your muscles; the way they move and slide, glowing in the morning light. He steps up to the bed and you give him a wide grin, squinting through your stretch and groaning.

“keep stretchin’ like that and our coffee’s gonna get cold,” he growls, playfully.

Your eyes glitter as you respond coyly, “Stretch how? Like this?” You arch your back and run your hands from your stomach, over your breasts and then over your head. This time, you let out a suspicious sounding groan. His grin widens, canines showing. He sets your mug down and takes a sip from his, staring at you over the lip.

“nah. not quite. you should show me more to jog my memory.”

You stretch into another enticing and compromising pose, grinning all the while. Sans tilts his head and his eyes travel up and down your body as he strolls away to lean up against the dresser.

“hmm…close, but no cigar.”

You chuckle and crawl across the bed, maintaining eye contact. You see him start to sweat. Good, you think. You sit up on your knees now, but not before bending and dragging your hands up as you straighten, flipping back your hair. You bite your lip as you reach for the ceiling, having too much fun teasing Sans. You close your eyes, breathing deep the heady atmosphere and the scent of him. But they shoot open when you hear the mug being set down and his hands wrapping around your thighs. You throw your arms around his shoulders and laugh as he hoists you up. Your legs hook themselves around his hips. He’s laughing too, vibrating against you. You pull back to place long and tender kisses along his jaw.

“I’m guessing that was the one you meant, huh?” you ask in between kisses. He makes a noncommittal grunt, lost in your ministrations. You let out a loud laugh when he drops you on the bed, coming to hover over you. He immediately goes for your neck. Your laughs only increase as you tease, “Wait, my coffee is gonna get cold.” You try reaching for your mug, but he growls and grabs both of your wrists, trapping them above your head in his vice-like grip. A low groan rests in your throat at the sensation. You’re quickly heating up and Sans can tell, because he bites harder. His eye flares hot and bright against your neck and you feel that wonderfully familiar hardness settle against your lower abdomen. Your body responds, wanton and waiting.

You whisper as you move, “I guess coffee can wait.” Sans rumbles his approval.

\------------------

The microwave hums an electric melody. Your mug revolves around and around as you watch. You sway back and forth, unconsciously mirroring the movement, but a bit slower because a certain skeleton is attached to your back, arms encircling your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. Your fingers trail lightly along the bones of his forearms, tracing gentle paths along the grains. You lean your head back, resting your cheek on the side of his skull. The planes are smooth and have a reassuring hardness.

“So do you feel better today?”

“a skele-ton.”

You chuckle. “Good.”

“you? are you ok with…everything?”

“Yes.” You turn and brush your lips across bone. “I love you.”

His arms tighten in response as he says, “i love you too.” Just hearing those words is enough to send an arrow of warmth through your chest, prickling like needles in its wake throughout your whole body. You don’t know what the future will be like, but it feels like you’ll never get tired of hearing them.

The microwave dings and Sans lets you go so you can pull your coffee out. You blow across the top as you follow him out into the living room. He plops down on the couch, sinking into the cushions and you stand in front of the window by the TV, looking outside as you sip your coffee.

“whatdya think about goin’ to grillby’s today?”

You turn and nod, meeting his smile. “I’d love to. Haven’t been back in a bit. Gotta tease Grillby about his meat.” Sans erupts into laughter at that, hiding his face in his hoodie. He grins up at you, delight glittering in his pupils.

“knew i loved ya for a reason.”

You laugh and give a sweeping bow, being careful not to spill your coffee.

\------------------

You and Sans step up to the front door of Grillby’s and enter. That same feeling of bittersweet nostalgia you first experienced floods through you. Several of the monsters inside turn to look and wave at the two of you. You start to follow Sans to the bar, but are nearly bowled over by a big ball of white fluff. You give a yelp of surprise and look down to see Lesser Dog’s snowy white face, his tongue lolling out in a dog-like smile. You laugh and scratch behind his ears. He’s so incredibly soft, almost like snow actually, the nice powdery kind. He yips and his tail goes mad. His paw wraps around your hand and he tugs you to a table surrounded by other dog monsters. You look back at Sans and smile, waving and mouthing _I’ll be back_. He laughs and nods, making his way to his barstool. He hops up and gives Grillby a lazy grin.

Grillby nods and says in his sibilant voice, “How are you today, Sans?”

“just swell,” Sans responds, good-natured.

Grillby sizzles as he looks him over. “You do seem better.” Sans raises his brow at that.

“whatcha talkin’ about? i’m short, but not on fun, grillbz.” Grillby flashes him what can only be a disbelieving and wry stare as he polishes glasses.

“You and I both know you can be full of it.” Sans’ brow gets even higher if possible, but he chuckles. Grillby is quiet, but he does have a certain fire about him sometimes. Sans has been around long enough to see it in person.

“but i ain’t got nothin’ on the inside,” Sans winks at him. Grillby just rolls the lights of his eyes. They drift over to you and the dogs at the other table. You’re laughing and messing up their card game, lovingly teasing Lesser Dog and Greater Dog. Doggo is getting animated at your suggestions while Dogamy and Dogaressa look on in amusement. Grillby crackles.

“Is it because of ___?”

Sans turns to look at you as well, love filling up his chest again. He’ll never get tired of that feeling. “yeah,” he responds, voice quiet but not without emotion.

Grillby looks back down at Sans, flames flickering warmer shades of red and orange. “It’s about time you settled down,” he says with a smile.

“me? but i’m always down. sitting, napping, reclining, you name it.” Grillby shakes his head, sparks flying as he laughs. “You know what I mean.”

Sans lets out a soft chuckle. “yeah, i know. they…,” his phalanges tap against the smooth counter, “they just make me happy, ya know?”

“I can tell. I’m happy for you.” Sans rubs his skull as he smiles. He can’t help but feel a bit shy.

“thanks,” he mutters after clearing his totally clear throat.

Grillby just sizzles a chuckle, placing a bottle of ketchup in front of Sans. He grabs it like a lifeline. “Is it true what I’ve heard though? About you helping Asgore?”

Sans’ eyes widen, his pupils shrinking just the slightest bit. “how did you know about that?”

Grillby shrugs and goes back to wiping glasses. “Something must have been mentioned in meetings. I just overheard some rumors.”

Sans stares hard down at the countertop. How long has his name been circulating around in those meetings? Are things really as bad that they need help from someone like him? He says, voice low, “boy, word sure does fly, huh?”

“So it’s true?”

Sans takes a pull from the bottle. “yes and no. asgore offered, but i haven’t given an answer.”

“Why not?” Grillby asks, interested.

“not sure i’m cut out for it. don’t wanna let people down.”

“Well I think you’re exactly what we need.”

Sans puts down the bottle and leans close, saying not entirely full of mirth, “keep pullin’ my leg and it’ll detach.”

Grillby dismisses Sans’ deflection with a chuckle. “I’m serious. You know everyone. And everyone likes you.”

Sans leans back with a grin, fluttering his sockets. “aw, was that an admission of love i heard from ya, grillbz?” Grillby sizzles, his flames spitting sparks. Sans grabs Grillby’s hand, before he can move away, with both of his, feigning distraught severity. “alas, this fire of passion must be extinguished, for i belong to another.” Grillby just throws back his head and releases a crackling puff of smoke as he groans. Sans bursts into laughter and lets go of Grillby, taking another pull from the ketchup bottle.

Grillby notices you coming back over and bends to Sans. “I think you should do it. We need one of us in there.”

Sans quiets down and answers, serious now. “i’ll keep it in mind, grillby.” His smile comes back as you slip into the stool next to him. You’re still chuckling from meeting the group of dog monsters. You bump Sans’ shoulder with yours, flashing him a grin before turning to Grillby.

“Hey Grillby!”

Grillby brightens, saying, “Hello ___. Nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to be back.” You fold your hands on the countertop and an innocent look crosses your face. You say nonchalantly and with as straight a face you can muster, “I just couldn’t stay away from your meat for too long.” Sans sputters into hilarity, wheezing at the utterly shocked look on Grillby’s luminescent face. He’s at odds, torn between complete embarrassment and mirth. You cover your mouth as you try to keep from laughing, throwing a not entirely apologetic glance at Grillby. Once he recovers, he just shakes his head and points accusingly between the two of you.

“You are perfect for each other.” He straightens and dusts off his vest before disappearing into the back.

You start wheezing as you turn to Sans, who’s still not in control of himself. He throws his arm around your neck and pulls you close to kiss you on the temple. You’re still giggling, joy spreading through you.

Grillby comes out after a while with your burgers and fries. He sets them down and you both say thanks. You apologize with an abashed smile on your face, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you Grillby.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, jerking his thumb to Sans. “I blame him.” Sans laughs and clutches the front of his hoodie in mock dismay.

“grillby! i thought you loved me.”

His flames dance as he laughs. “Sorry, that’s their job,” he says as he inclines his head to you. You blush, suddenly absorbed into eating your fries. Grillby glows and leaves to help his other customers. Sans leans over, asking, “so did you like meetin’ the pack?”

You nod, swallowing to clear your throat. “Yeah! They’re really sweet,” you sigh. Sans smiles, pleased. “What did they do in the Underground, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“nah. they were part of the royal guard.”

“Guards? They don’t seem like the guard type,” you muse.

Sans chuckles. “you’re not exactly wrong.”

“What did you and Papyrus do?” you ask.

“we were sentries. though paps wanted to be part of the guard.”

“How come he didn’t go for it?”

“he did. all the time. but undyne thought he was too nice. tried to distract him. kinda thankful to her for that,” he says, quiet as he thinks. It kept him out of trouble and danger most of the time. Especially when…. But he’s jarred from his memories when he feels you press a kiss to his cheekbone. He looks to you with a grateful smile, knowledge of where he was in your eyes. Again, he’s so thankful you know now. “thanks, babe.”

“No problem. What were you and Grillby talkin’ about? Seemed pretty heated sometimes. Should I be jealous?” you wink at him, changing the subject.

“completely jealous. he’s just so hot, right? i can’t resist. like a moth to the flame,” he coos, winking at you. You dissolve into giggles.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” you manage to get out. He laughs, that wonderful, deep, rolling chuckle that you love so much.

When he calms down he says, “we were just talkin’ about asgore’s offer.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “How does he know?”

“guess word got around.”

“That’s weird. Asgore just asked you himself a couple of days ago…,” you trail off, mouth open in a silent _Oh_. It hits you. You look at him with wide, concerned eyes. He meets them, nodding. “This musta been on the horizon for a while, I guess, huh?”

He sighs, picking at his food. “s’pose. grillby thinks i should do it.”

You wave a fry through the air as you think aloud. “Well, I think Grillby would know what the majority of monsters think about you and the state of things in general. Bars are pretty good indicators of public opinion. At least they’re not _lacking_ in opinions.” His frown deepens somewhat as he stares at the far wall, thinking. Your hand lays gently on top of his, stroking the smooth bones. “But all of that is contingent upon you _wanting_ to do it. It’s up to you and no one is gonna fault you if you say no.”

He glances over at you, asking, “won’t they? won’t i be letting people down if i decline?”

“No,” you say with confidence. He just gives you a skeptical look. “What? I’m serious. I feel like letting down connotes some kind of effort at the start you know? Plus, I’ve literally never met a monster who wasn’t genuinely kind. _And_ ,” you waggle your eyebrows at him as you make a camera with your hands, squinting through the rectangle your fingers make, “who could hate this handsome mug?” His smile comes back and you feel better once you see it. You know this has been weighing heavily on his mind ever since Asgore asked him.

Sans chuckles at your antics. You always know how to cheer him up. His mind thinks about what you said though. You’re not wrong. Even though he feels stuck between a rock and a hard place now that he’s been offered it _and_ people know about it – not to mention rooting for him to take it – he has to admit he doesn’t think anyone would be upset if he didn’t. What’s holding him back then? Is he really just that lazy? Is he so afraid of failing; that the possibility is real if he goes through with it? What’s to say he even _will_ fail? He’s acting like that’s what is going to happen, when, in all actuality, it might not. It’s not just monsters he’s afraid of letting down though. It includes you now, too. Maybe… he wants to prove he can do something and succeed. It’s been so long he’s put forth an actual effort into _anything_. He’d want to do it for you, for Papyrus.

Plus, he’ll get his degrees back. Which is something he’s been denying himself for a _long_ time.

He looks back to you and grins wide. Your eyes light up in happiness and anticipation.

“think i’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! All nighters are fun, said no one ever. 
> 
> But I hope you enjoy! Stay amazing, BBs <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	29. Steps

You and Sans wave goodbye to Grillby and the other monsters. Lesser Dog barks at you as you exit, tail wagging vigorously. You meet those intelligent, dark eyes and wave, a broad smile crossing your face. Sans takes out his phone and dials a number, standing off to the side with his hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket. He must be calling Asgore. You stroll away to give him some privacy, looking into the windows of the store next to Grillby’s. It’s one of those new age-y type shops, patchouli cloying and heavy in the air. There’s something you kind of like about them though. Maybe it’s the colors and the chill atmosphere, but you’re drawn to it. You turn to Sans, catching his eye. You point to the door, indicating you’re gonna look inside. He gives you a lazy smile and nod.

You step inside and are immediately blanketed by incense and soft trance music. Lamps and candles decorate every surface, breaking up the dim atmosphere. Considering the amount of hanging cloth, you think candles wouldn’t exactly be a great idea. You don’t think too hard about it though as you scan the eclectic array of crystals and tapestries and prayer statues. The store isn’t super crowded, but it’s tiny and the isles are narrow. The lack of personal space draws you forcefully out of the swirling colors that attract your eyes. You try to take a deep breath but all you get is incense. It clouds your mind and makes it hard to think clearly. You start to get a bit anxious at the size, the shelves looming tall over you. Your eyes dart around, until you see a corner that’s a bit more open. You make a beeline for it, not really caring who you bump into. Once you get to it, you exhale a sigh of relief. It’s wider, giving you space to breathe and think.

You cross your arms and try looking around to get small, dark crevices out of your mind. You pick up a fat little Buddha statue, hefting it in your hands. But you jump when a hand settles on your back. You whip your head around to see Sans. His grin drops a bit as he sees your flustered face.

“you ok, babe?” His hand massages the small of your back.

You nod and give him a small smile, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Yeah, you just scared me. And, uh…,” your eyes flit about the store, “it’s a little close in here.” The white lights of his eyes scan your face before he smiles and takes your hand. You set the statute down and sidle close to him as he leads you out of the store.

“i get what ya mean.” You take a deep breath once you get outside. His hand squeezes yours in response. You both start walking back to your truck.

 “So did you call Asgore?” you ask.

“yep. he actually wants us to come over soon if that’s good with you.”

You nod, saying, “Yeah. Man, you’re a hot commodity.”

He gives a half-hearted chuckle as he slips into the driver side. “practically on fire. just call me grillby from now on.” You hop in and squeeze the bones of his arm reassuringly. He throws you a grateful smile.

Mentioning Grillby reminds him of something. Something he noticed when you first stepped into the bar, and again today. He felt you respond in a strange way both times, that happiness tinged with sadness. He’s silent for a minute as he drives, gathering the courage to ask.

“so, uh, i’ve been meanin’ to ask for a while.” You look over to him, curious. “when you walk into grillby’s, it’s like…you’re sad and happy at the same time?” The look he gives you makes you laugh, long and loud. Like he’s not even really sure what he’s asking.

“You can tell that?”

“kinda.” He shrugs, nonplussed.

Your giggles die down as you answer, “Grillby’s just reminds me of my grandparent’s house. It’s homey, dark but comfortable. Smells kind of the same. Like smoke. They’ve been gone a while though.” You pause. “I spent a lot of time with them.” 

Sans glances over at you. You’re staring out at the road, not sad, but not your usual self either. He’s curious about you though. He wants to know you more. But they have all the time in the world to do that. He’s not going to push you. His hand searches for yours, fingers intertwining with yours. “well i think they’d be proud.” You meet his loving gaze and smile, eyes watering the slightest bit. Your hand tightens and you laugh.

“I’d like to think so.”

You stare out at the road and as you get closer and closer to Asgore’s house, you feel your heart start to race a bit. You realize this is the first time you’ll see Frisk after everything Sans has told you. How are you going to react? Can you treat them the same? You think you can, but it’s hard to say what you’d do in a situation when you’ve never been in anything similar before. It’s like trying to shoot a gun when all you’ve ever seen are guns on TV. You can’t possibly be prepared for the experience or the consequences it could bring.

“ya keep squeezin’ my hand like that and all that’s gonna be left is dust,” Sans teases gently. Your eyes shoot wide and you let go of his hand, shocked. Too close to home right now. He looks over at you a bit confused. “sorry, i was just jokin’ is all.” He holds out his hand again. “what’s got ya spooked?”

You take his hand, rolling his phalanges in between yours, staring at them. “Just realized this’ll be the first time seeing Frisk since you told me the truth.” Now it’s his turn to capture your hand in a vice. You look up to see him glancing at you, pupils soft and hard at the same time.

“you ok? ya don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

You shake your head, smiling. “No, it’s ok. I’ll be fine. I can’t avoid them forever,” you chuckle.

He responds with a small grunt. He’d almost forgotten as well after Grillby’s. His mind has been distracted by everything else going on, like what Asgore wants him to do. And generally, you. He thinks you’ll be ok. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous now. It’s got to be a strange feeling. Seeing this child, but knowing what they’re capable of. But if you can love him and reconcile what he’s done, he thinks you’ll be strong when it comes to Frisk, too.

\-----------------

Sans pulls up to Asgore and Toriel’s house. You both get out and walk to the door, Sans’ hand still wrapped around yours. His hold gets tighter as you step up the porch. You rap your knuckles against the door and step back. The heavy door opens to a grinning Asgore. He fills the already large frame, gesturing for you both to step in.

“Welcome back,” he says, his voice warm.

“Hi Asgore,” you answer, smiling. Sans gives a slow wave. You enter the foyer and spot Toriel in the kitchen with Frisk.

She calls out, “Hello ___, Sans!”

You take a deep breath and shout back, “Hey Toriel! Frisk!” Sans watches you go into the kitchen to give a proper hello, his soul twisting with a small feeling of uncertainty. He tilts his head to gaze up at Asgore.

“I am glad you agreed to help,” Asgore says, deep voice full of gratitude.

Sans shrugs and grins, phalanges fiddling with the threads in his hoodie pockets. “no skin off my nose.”

Asgore chuckles and steps into the living room. Sans follows. “though, i do have a question. how come people already know about this?” Asgore turns his large head, horns scraping the air. His eyes are curious, but apprehensive.

“Who knows?”

“apparently a skele-ton.”

Asgore frowns. “It has been brought up before. I do not know who would have been spreading just thoughts at that point.” He throws Sans a somber glance. “I apologize. I was unaware.”

“it’s fine. sounds like you have a bone to pick though.”

Asgore grimaces, his canines showing as he stares out of the front window. “I just do not like the idea that our meetings may not be as secure as previously thought. Sensitive information should not be easy to come by,” he says lowly, the wrath of kings promised in his voice. “We shall have to be more careful in the future.” Sans doesn’t miss that that means him as well now. He sits down on the couch, sinking back into the cushions.

“give it to me straight, asgore. are things bad?”

Asgore turns to Sans now, raising his eyebrows. “Not as bad as they could be. I feel we need someone representative of monsterkind, though. And preferably someone who can handle themselves and is good with people.” He smiles knowingly at Sans.

Sans closes his eyes. “welp, guess i’m your skeleton then.”

“Thank you. I shall speak to the university as well about your degrees.”

One of his sockets open to glance gratefully at Asgore. “thanks.”

\--------------------

You walk into the warm and sweet-smelling kitchen to see Toriel and Frisk at the counter mixing a bowl of what looks like whipped cream. She’s just dabbed a little bit on the tip of Frisk’s nose. They’re giggling and trying in vain to lick it off. Toriel’s laugh rings, mixing with Frisk’s as sweetly as the cream they’re making. Your heart beats comfortably in your chest, soul not far behind. How could you even think ill of them? It’s almost impossible to believe they’ve done the things Sans has said. No wonder he’s able to be around them at all. If there was any indication to the contrary, that Frisk showed any resemblance to the thing in those timelines, you don’t think Sans would be nearly as ok. Nor would you.

They both look up at you, wide smiles on their faces. Toriel comes up and wraps you in a strong hug. “It is good to see you again, my child.”

You return the embrace, saying, “It’s always good to be back.” You let go and turn to Frisk as Toriel cleans up the counter. They look up at you with their dark eyes. They widen as they stare, face drawn in what you can only assume is comprehension. You meet their gaze and smile warmly, inclining your head the tiniest bit. You think you start to see tears in their eyes, but you meet them and wrap them up in a hug instead, squeezing their tiny frame. They let out a shaky laugh, tiny hands fisting in your shirt. Your soul pulses in fondness. They sure know how to make an impression on people.

You pull away and Frisk takes your hand, leading you out of the kitchen into the living room again. They tug your arm, urging you to lay down on the floor to draw with them. You laugh and follow, reclining on your stomach. They hand you several crayons and paper and you both get to work, doodling houses and people and animals. Eventually Toriel comes down to sit with you both as well. She steals a crayon and some paper from Frisk with a wink and a smile.

You watch Frisk. They’re intently scribbling a house with a purple crayon, their tongue sticking out the side of their mouth They’re so small and sweet. Even though you’ve made your peace with them, you still can’t help but think. How could they possibly do the things Sans has said they’ve done? Your crayon slows as you think, contemplating those possibilities. Those _realities_. Your mind tries to go to a dark place. But you don’t let it, banishing the thoughts that make your heart clench and your soul sink. You can’t. You can’t think of them, kill-…. No. You _can’t_. They look over to you, their dark eyes glancing back and forth between you and Sans. Your eyes rise from your own paper, catching their gaze. You grin and they return it.

“Is Sans your boyfriend?”

“Frisk!” Toriel chides.

You sputter out a shocked laugh and pillow your face on your arms, body shaking from your laughter. You feel a hot blush spread across your face and when you’re sufficiently calmed down, you raise your head again. Frisk looks only the slightest bit abashed, while Toriel is apologetic. You grin warmly at them both, but turn to Frisk.

“I guess he is.”

They tilt their head in confusion. “You guess?”

“Well…we haven’t really talked about it. But sometimes things don’t need labels.” You shrug, smiling, turning to glance back at Sans, who heard you laugh. He winks at you out of the corner of his eye. “We love each other and that’s what matters.” You turn back and see Frisk nodding and Toriel smiling affectionately at the two of you.

You and Sans visit for a little while longer, catching up on what Frisk and Toriel are doing at the school and things like that. But when it’s time to go, you stand up and all three see you out. Toriel gives you a hug, as well as Frisk. As they say their goodbyes to Sans, Asgore comes up to you and gives you a hug as well. But when he pulls back, his large paws settle heavily on your shoulders. You look up to meet his kind gaze.

He says quietly, “I see you used your courage. I am very happy for you. For the both of you.” You blush and nod.

“Thank you for the advice.”

He smiles briefly before saying, more serious now, “If you would, I would like you to come over in a few days so that I may speak to you about something.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise and curiosity.

“Sure. I can come over after class.”

“Thank you,” he responds as he lets you go. You’re burning with questions, but you tamper it, telling yourself you’ll know in a few days. You just have to be patient. You wave to them as you and Sans walk back to your truck. You hold out your hand with a smile and he drops the keys into it. You hop into the driver seat as he slides in on the other side. As you pull out, he says, “you were really great today.”

You glance over at him and find him staring at you. “Papyrus is rubbing off on me I think,” you chuckle.

He laughs with you. “he does have that effect on people.” He adds, “you were though.” You shrug and look back out at the road.

“It’s easier for me to interact as normal, I think, because I haven’t seen them the way you have….” Your voice grows quieter. “It’s hard to envision them doing those things.” You glance back over. He’s staring out the window now, hands fisted in his pockets. Your brow creases in concern. “Hey,” you say as you raise your hand, fingers coming up under his chin to make him look at you. He obliges, but his pupils are dim. “That doesn’t mean I don’t believe you.” He nods, his own hand coming up to grasp your fingers.

He gives you a soft smile. “i know. you haven’t seen, so you’re farther removed. it’ll always be a little different…,” he mutters, trailing off. His mind wanders. _Haven’t seen_. He wonders…. No. Why would he even want that? How selfish could he be? You _know_. Isn’t that enough? God, he doesn’t ever want you to see…but part of him can’t help thinking about it. That beaten and poisonous side of him wants you to understand. To truly be on the same side. He reminds himself over and over that you are. You are with him. Until he’s pulled out of his monotonous thoughts by you.

“Speaking of Papyrus, he’s coming back today right?” He nods, smiling at the thought of seeing his brother again. “I gotta take care of some stuff before classes this week, but you should spend some quality time with him.” You giggle. “He needs his pun quota filled.” Sans laughs, a deep, rolling chuckle. It makes your soul warm, breaking the tension around your heart. You hope he understood what you meant earlier though.

“can’t leave him hangin’. i’ll do my duty,” he says with a smile.

“Want me to drop you off?”

“nah, i’ll drop _you_ off. wanna make sure ya get home safe.” You cock an eyebrow as you look out at the afternoon light. He just shrugs, grinning. You pull up to your apartment and get out of the truck, with Sans following you inside. As soon as you drop your things, Sans grabs you, holding you tight to him. You squeeze him too. You feel his face press against your hair, breathing you in before placing kisses on your jaw. You hum, shuddering under his touch, stretching against his body. You move and meet his mouth, lips moving, caught by his canines. You laugh when you feel his tongue skirt across yours. Your hands slide down against his sternum.

“If you don’t go now, I’ll never let you leave.” He just rumbles, biting your lip again. “Save me from myself,” you mutter as his tongue licks your jaw. You chuckle again. “Sans…if you go now, you can take me later.” He laughs this time, pulling away, pupils bright with excitement.

“i’m holdin’ ya to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“mhmm…,” he sways with you in his grip, “i’ll hold ya to a lotta things. your word…the bed…the wall….” The heat he’s ignited inside you blazes and you blush from its ferocity.

You let out a shaky breath, placing a chaste kiss to his mouth. “Well, _I’ll_ hold you to _that_.” He chuckles and finally lets you go, none too reluctantly. “Say hi to Papyrus for me. I love you.”

He grins broadly as he nods, pleased. “love you too.” You see his eye flare that strange and beautiful blue-yellow.

And then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. PEW PEW PEWPEWPEW *airhorns*
> 
> This is a little short. I wanted to split things up, because I feel like a lotta stuff has to be talked about and I don't want just a buncha shit shoved in your faces all at once. But I hope you enjoy! I'm super happy to be done with school for the meantime and get back to writing vastly more interesting things. Like fricking skeletons. Art is SO last century. Skeletons are IN, baby.
> 
> Ahem. Anyways. Enjoy.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	30. Plans

Sans drops back into his living room. It’s quiet, the only sounds breaking it are the heaving sighs of the natural settling of the house itself. He must have arrived before Papyrus. So much has happened this past weekend that it’s hard to keep track of it all, but now that he’s home, he realizes how much he’s missed his brother. It’s not unusual for him to hang out and train with Undyne for several days at a time. Sans would either be working or sleeping anyway. But this time, he feels Papyrus’ absence acutely. He’s…kind of excited to tell him what’s happened concerning you. That he loves you and you love him back. But something gives him pause. A pause that settles deep and heavy in his soul, anchoring him to the wooden floor. Will Papyrus ask if he’s told you about the reasons behind his nightmares? If he says yes, will he ask about them too? Sans promised he’d tell him, but he has absolutely no clue how to broach it with his brother. He _needs_ more time. A good part of him regrets making that promise. The last thing he wants is to tell Papyrus about that. He has no idea how he will react. Fear and protectiveness twists inside of him, sharp and tight and poignant like a knife he knows too well. And it’s incredibly unfair for you to know and not Papyrus. He clenches his shaking hands. He can only hope Papyrus doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to keep lying. That was him in the Underground…he doesn’t want it to continue up here. Not when they finally have a chance.

He jolts when he sees lights flash into the living room. He’s been standing there for who knows how long. He peeks through the curtains and spots Papyrus bounding up to the door. He grins, that excitement coming back, but hand-in-hand with trepidation. Good thing he knows how to act cool.

Papyrus throws open the door and skids inside, shouting, “BROTHER! I AM HOME!” Sans ambles over with a genuine smile.

“hey paps. glad you’re back.”

Papyrus cackles and picks him up in one grand, sweeping hug, swaying back and forth. “It is good to be back!”

Sans’ soul swells in affection. “heh. missed ya, bro.”

Papyrus squeezes him tight, forcing out a laugh from Sans as well as the slippers from his feet. “NYEH HEH! I MISSED YOU TOO!” He finally sets him down and heads into the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, “Did you have a good weekend?”

Sans follows his tall form, leaning against the entry, hands in pockets. “yeah. ___ kept me company.”

Papyrus turns and waggles his brow at his brother, snickering, “OHO, was it GOOD COMPANY? Nyeh heh HEH!”

Sans chuckles as he scratches his skull, blue blush dusting his cheekbones. “it was nice. they, uh…,” Papyrus turns, his eyes wide in excitement and expectance. “um, they…told me they loved me?” he says lamely. Papyrus throws his arms in the air and lets out a loud whoop. He crosses the room to lift Sans into another hug, swinging him around. Sans lets out a deep laugh, embarrassment forgotten for now.

“THAT IS WONDERFUL, I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU! But you say it like it is a bad thing, nyeh!”

Sans is a ragdoll in Papyrus’ lanky arms. He chuckles, “nah, it’s real good.”

“And did you tell them you love them? BECAUSE I KNOW YOU DO.”

“heh. yeah, i did.”

Papyrus laughs in joy and Sans joins him. He plops his brother down and poses impressively with both hands on his hips. “I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I believed in you, brother!”

“thanks, bro,” Sans says, grin wide on his face. Papyrus whips around to start making celebratory spaghetti and Sans sits in the kitchen with him, breathing out a sigh of relief. Papyrus is too excited to ask about anything else at the moment and Sans is extremely thankful for that. It gives him time. Time to think it through and figure out a plan.

And maybe you can help him with that.

\-------------------

It’s late when you’re finally done with your readings. You yawn and stretch, reaching up for the ceiling. Your arm is feeling more normal now. You can extend it more and more every day and your strength is slowly coming back. You turn off your lamp as you get up from your couch, your living room now bathed in the soft silver glow of the creeping moon, breaking up the comfortable darkness. Your feet pad along the carpet as you go upstairs to get ready for bed. You’re not sure when Sans is coming over, but it’ll be whenever Papyrus falls asleep. You want them to spend as much time together as they can. There’s no way you’re getting in between their relationship. You walk into your closet and rifle through your chest of drawers, shifting through the soft and supple fabrics. You grab a thin silk thong and tank top. A smirk lifts your lips. You contemplated just wearing nothing – you definitely think Sans would appreciate it – but if you’re honest, you not-so-guiltily like for him to take it off himself.

You take a quick shower and change into your bed clothes, slipping underneath the covers and setting your phone to charge. The sheets are nice and cold and you roll around in them, soaking up the cool temperature. It makes your skin tingle and pucker and you stretch into the fabric, groaning your enjoyment. You think about earlier and that delicious ache comes back. You revel in it, thinking about his hard bones against your skin, arms around you. It makes you hum inside and out, and you can feel your soul sing in longing and love. And that makes you think. You wonder when you’ll be ready for him to touch your soul. It feels like you are, but it’s obvious you’re not when it comes right down to it. You think maybe you’ll be ok when it’s not so…surprising. It did kind of sneak up on the both of you when it almost happened. In spite of being fearful, it did feel…incredible. You didn’t think anything could really feel like that. You could _feel_ his magic. It was beautiful and strong and _deep_ , like it stretched on forever; a desert in its heated, wide expanse, an ocean in its rippling, cold vastness. But you could feel how fast it could turn on a dime to something more great and terrible. It was insistent in its calling for you. That possessiveness, you think, is what frightened you. That it would take and overwhelm and you would be lost. Sans seemed shocked and concerned about how he reacted too, like it hasn’t happened before. You guess you should thank your soul for keeping its wits about it. If he didn’t have control of his magic…who knows what could have happened. Your chest warms and you lay your hand atop your sternum. You smile and whisper, “Thank you,” to the quiet night. You gasp and let out a small laugh when you feel your soul thump, knocking its presence against your body. You tilt your head back into the cool pillow, eyes alight with wonder. “I think when the opportunity shows itself, and we _know_ he has control…I think that’ll be the time,” you murmur to it. You start giggling when you feel your soul buzz with electric warmth at the thought of him. The giddy feeling spreads through you, making you laugh aloud. The pleasant drone of your soul is joined by a ring from your phone. You roll over to it, hugging your pillow against your body as your eyes adjust to the backlight.

_-just put paps to bed_

You smile and type back:

**_-Cool beans_ **

You’ve only just put down your phone when you hear that familiar pop. You look over your shoulder to see a grinning Sans standing at the foot of your bed.

“i thought beans were s’posed to be hot.”

You smile wide. “Nope. They can be totally cool.”

“ _n-ice_ to know,” he chuckles as he unzips his hoodie and shrug off his shirt. You watch, enraptured. Just looking at the way his bones move in the dim moonlight, cutting so many patterns into the darkness, both in sound and sight. You love it. But he stops as he catches you. He smirks, his pupils two vibrant dots in the shadows. “like what ya see?”

You pillow your head on your arms. “What if I said I did?”

“then that’d be _snow_ problem,” he says in his gravelly voice. You giggle. He drops his shirt on the ground with a muted thump as he walks to the other side of your bed. You follow him, still looking at the thick bones of his arms and ribs and sternum. “looks like ya need help with your shirt.” He sits on the bed and faces you. You sit up with your back to him, smiling all the while. “let me,” he mutters.

His hands alight on your back, fingers sliding underneath your shirt. They creep upwards, pushing up the fabric as they travel, lingering around your breasts like they need to rest before continuing their long journey up your body. They move up your arms, bones smoothing the fine hair that lays there. He tugs it off. Before you can drop them, he snags your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. He scoots even closer, placing you comfortably between his dense femurs, so that your back is up against his ribs. The contact makes your body shiver. You feel his bones hum and his hot respirations ruffle your hair. He brings your arms back down, crossing them in front of your abdomen so he’s hugging you. He leans forward and rests his chin on your shoulder. You tilt your head to rest it likewise on his skull. He sighs and you both just sit there, holding each other, enjoying the quiet after a busy day. His skull eventually angles down to press small kisses along your shoulder. His arms tense and relax in the pauses between his kisses. The hesitations are pregnant with thoughts unsaid; the kisses almost aimless. Like he wants to say something. You wait, massaging his hands. Your patience is rewarded when he murmurs, “babe.” You make a soft grunt of acknowledgement. “i need your help with something.”

You lean into him as you say, “Just name it, baby.”

He kisses your shoulder again, hugging you tight. “remember…that first nightmare?” You nod, pressing his arms into your abdomen. His hands cover your wrists protectively, almost out of reflex. “well, paps noticed what i did.” It’s your turn to stiffen with concern, question obvious in your bearing. It hangs heavy and wanting in the silence. Another kiss. “he was understanding,” he chuckles weakly, his deep timbre overflowing with affection, “like paps always is.” You breathe out a soft laugh, turning your cheek to rub it against the bones of his skull. “but i promised him i’d tell him the truth.” Your brows raise. You think that’d be the last thing he would ever want to tell Papyrus. You know in that moment what he’s asking though.

“You need help on how to tell him?”

A nod and a kiss. “please.” His voice is soft and low. But sharing that same wonderful space is worry, shadowing it with sadness.

“I’ll do whatever I can, babe. I’ll even be there when you tell him if you want.”

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, breathing out a shaking, relieved, “yes. we don’t have to figure it out now, but…yes. thank you.”

“Of course. I love you,” you say, your heart and soul filling with that love. You’re incredibly proud of him for deciding to step up and attempt to do right by Papyrus, even if it costs him. You’ll do anything for him. Anything to help.

He lifts his head again and shifts your hair aside. He presses his mouth up to your neck, right underneath your jaw. He kisses you there, deeply, before saying, “i love you too.” One of his hands strays upwards to lay gently in between your breasts, right in the center of your chest. You feel that warmth and thrumming energy again, like the ocean’s incessant rushing. You smile and decide to break the silence this time.

“So Frisk asked if you were my boyfriend today.”

He stills and you can just imagine how bright and curious his eyes are. “what’d ya say?”

“Said I guess you are, but that we haven’t talked about it. Also that we love each other and that’s what really matters.” He sighs at that. His hand drops and they both tighten around yours.

“well…what if i said i liked the idea?”

Your face splits into a wide grin, a giddy feeling spreading through you. You don’t know why it hits you so hard, but…you like the idea too.

“I would think that’s awesome. ‘Cause I like it too.” You hear him groan and he turns you in his arms so that he can kiss you properly. He pushes you down, arm snaking under your neck to hold your opposite shoulder. His other hand drags down your side to rest on your waist as his mouth meets your moving lips. You feel that not-quite heat of his eye and then his tongue follows, tasting you like he can never get enough. He moves lower to pay special attention to your jaw and throat. You sigh and lay back, reveling in his warm kisses. Your hand rubs the back of his skull. Feeling the flames of his eye stokes your curiosity.

“What else can your magic do?” you ask softly.

He lets out a short laugh, lifting his head to smirk at you. “do i need to show ya again? ‘cause i’d be more than happy to lend a hand,” he teases as he runs his hand over your breast, causing you to gasp. You laugh breathlessly.

“You know what I mean.”

He rumbles and goes back to kissing your throat. His hand glides back down to your waist as he says, “well, ya know some things. teleporting, amongst other _fun_ activities,” punctuating his word choice with a press from his hips. He nips your collarbone. You groan. “monsters have specific magic. like asgore ‘n tori have fire. paps ‘n i have bones.”

You grin. “How fitting.” He chuckles and goes back to his ministrations. “Would you show me sometime?” He slows and you add, hurriedly, “If you want to, that is. Don’t have to.” He kisses you once more before lifting his head to meet your eyes. His pupils are vivid and alive with questions.

“i don’t mind. why the sudden curiosity, though?” Your fingers track small circles on his skull as you shrug. Your soul isn’t nearly as nonchalant. You kind of blame it. It wants these questions answered just as much as you, if not more so.

“Just like to know what you can do,” you offer. His intelligent eye-lights search your face before they glance down to your chest for the quickest of seconds. He raises a brow and his fingers grip your shoulder.

He digs, deep voice tinged with hidden meaning, “ya sure that’s all?”

You open your mouth as you try to find the words. You can’t cover it up, not with the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re laid bare before him, quite literally and figuratively. “I just wanna be prepared,” you admit.

His face softens and his other hand comes up to lay along your jaw. “prepared for what, babe?”

You pause and look into his eyes, leaning into his touch. You say, “For when you touch my soul.”

His brow creases and his thumb slides as he tenses up. “do you think i’d hurt you?” You shake your head vigorously.

“No, not at all.” You smile and he relaxes somewhat. “I just think the unknown is what scared me last time. I want to know so I can be prepared and anticipate. You just…seemed as surprised as I was,” you say, one side of your mouth quirking up into a nervous smile. He smiles back faintly before laying his skull on your chest, sighing heavily. You frown. You didn’t mean to upset him. Your hand trails to cup the side of his face. “Hey. Baby, don’t hide.”

He mumbles into your sternum, “’m not hidin’.”

You start chuckling, body shaking. “Hey, Not Hidin’, I’m ___.” He barks out a laugh and squeezes you. “If you’re not Haydn, get Bach up here,” you tease. He laughs more, bones jittering and tickling your bare body. He finally lifts his head, meeting your eyes. It’s good to see them. “I’m surprised you’re up with your Baroque music references.”

He leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips. “it’s gotta be in every joke book i’ve ever read. guess if it ain’t baroque…,”

You laugh and kiss him back, finishing the thought for him, “Don’t fix it.” He holds you tight to him as you kiss through your mutual laughter.

In between kisses, he murmurs, “i dunno what happened last time…but it won’t happen again. i’d never hurt you. i’ll show you what you wanna know. i’d rather you not go in blind either.”

You wrap your arms securely around him. “Thank you, Sans.”

“’course, babe.”

Your tongue darts out to lick his canine, causing him to groan. “Now…weren’t you gonna hold me to something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early? MADNESS I SAY. ENJOY TODAY! 
> 
> RHYMES
> 
> Also thank you DEAR, SWEET, KIND BBs for over 100 bookmarks. It's still mind-blowing as ever. It won't ever STOP being mind-blowing, I assure you. 
> 
> Though this does not rhyme  
> We know there comes a time when  
> It's snowing on Mount Fuji
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	31. Decisions

The next few days seem like they go by quickly, but it feels like a snail’s pace. Because at the end of your wait is a talk that threatens to disrupt your moods at every opportunity. It doesn’t help that the end of your semester of school is drawing to a close, so the pressure is on. You don’t think Asgore is going to have anything bad to say, at least you hope not, but you can never be sure. He’s a veteran at playing this game and he knows how to conceal important information like it’s literally no one’s business.

Your class for the day just let out and as you step from the cool halls to the cold outside, you breathe deep, clearing the anxiety from your head and heart. You stand for a moment, savoring the sunshine that beats down weakly in the late fall afternoon. It’s been getting steadily colder and soon you think it’ll be cold enough for snow. While you enjoy the heat and summer when it comes, you truly look forward to the chillier weather. Your love for burritos extends deep into the sweater and blanket department. You’re roused by a buzz from your phone. Must be Sans. You pull out your phone and are proved right as you look at the message.

_-paps wants to know if ya wanna have dinner with us_

_-i spose i do 2_

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the breeze whips your hair about your face. You push it behind your ear as you type back.

**_-Sure. The usual?_ **

_-ya know it sugar_

**_-Oh, sugar? How sweet_ **

_-just call me muffin._

_-cuz its oh so sweet when im on top of ya_

__You burst into gasping laughter, bending over in the middle of the sidewalk. When you straighten you ignore the amused stares of passing students, leftover chuckles tumbling through your dry lips. The wind stirs around you, kissing the heat from your blushing cheeks. You exhale and respond with numb fingers.

**_-I’m getting a lot of weird looks from you making me laugh_ **

_-my only regret is im not there to see it_

_-when ya headin over_

**_-In a few hours. That alright? Meeting Asgore soon._ **

His text is quick.

_-how come?_

**_-Said he wanted to talk to me about something. That’s all I know. But I’ll tell you when I see you tonight._ **

His response comes a few minutes later. You can just imagine him, his brow creased in thought, pupils hard and focused as if he could find the answer by sight alone.

_-ok_

**_-Love you. See you later_ **

_-love ya too_

You open your contacts and press call. He picks up.

“Hey Asgore! I’m on my way over.”

\-------

You pull into the clean driveway, spotting the large form of Asgore in the equally huge front window, watering the beautiful flowers that make their home there. The sight is so domestic, especially for someone who holds so much power, that it makes you giggle. You step out of your truck and make your way over to the door. It opens before you can knock, now truly revealing Asgore. He’s dressed casually, wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that makes you want to fall apart in laughter, but you resist somehow. Instead, you cover it with a bright smile. He returns it, fur-lined face lifting, and no trace of apprehension from what he’s going to talk to you about.

“Hi Asgore.”

“Howdy,” he says with a smile. You can’t help but chuckle now as he steps back to usher you inside. His deep, smooth voice echoes throughout the empty house. “Tori apologizes for not being here, as she and Frisk are at school.”

You step into the living room, following him. “That’s alright. I’ll just have to come back when they are here.” He chuckles low in his throat.

“I think they would love that.” He extends his hand to the couch. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?”

You sit and fold your hands on your lap, gazing congenially up at his towering form. “Yes, please.” He nods, grinning and disappears into the kitchen. You look around the happy room, the yellows and blues dancing even more vibrantly in the sunlight, casting calm shadows across the furnishings. The watering can sits on the sill, lovingly used and worn, next to a group of pots. You’ve never seen such citrine flowers. Their golden quality drinks up the sun and multiplies it. And their size is incredible as well. They look to be about the size of your hand, if not larger. It’s impressive to say the least.

Asgore walks back out with a tray of tea. He sets it upon the table with a soft clink, and hands you a steaming cup with a smile. You accept it, saying, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he answers, settling heavily into the armchair opposite. You lean back and let the tendrils of steam drift into your face, filling your senses with cinnamon and spices that warm you from your head to your toes. You blow across the top and take a small sip. Delicious. As always. It tastes like the winter that’s just on the approaching pink-and-blue-hued horizon. You sigh, gentle smile lifting your lips.

“This is wonderful. Perfect for the weather.”

He returns your smile and your sentiment. “I’m glad you like it so. I have noticed it becoming cooler outside.”

You tug at your scarf with a laugh. “Guess it doesn’t quite affect you the same, huh?” He laughs with you.

“Not quite,” he responds with a kind grin. He takes one more sip, before you see the mask of royalty and responsibility drift over his face. His bearing immediately changes and you unconsciously sit straighter, the casual atmosphere growing thick. “I hope you have not worried very much on why I have asked you over here today.”

One corner of your mouth tilts and you fiddle nervously with your scarf. “Well, I would be lying if I said it hasn’t been on my mind.”

He nods, apologetic. “I did not intend to cause you worry. But it is also not an issue to be taken without caution and concern. Do you understand?” You incline your head, waiting. He continues, claws tapping against the thin ceramic. “You are aware that Sans will be joining myself, Tori, and oftentimes Frisk in talks, correct?” You nod. “And you know what these talks might entail?”

“I assume issues dealing with monster rights?”

He smiles faintly. “Yes. You’re smart, ___. I’m sure you know what happens sometimes when matters of race and rights come to the surface.” He waits for you, knowing you’re working through it.

Your brow furrows in concern and understanding. “Riots.”

“Not only that, but also individuals.” His implication is heavy, sinking in the tense air, right into your mind and heart. It threatens to drag you down to a place inside you; a rank, suffocating place, black as pitch, that you would rather not step foot in for fear of being overcome.

You stare into the amber liquid residing in the cup you bear, before glancing up at him. “You’ll keep him safe right?” Your worry possesses your voice, darkening your plea. The thought of him hurt or in danger twists your soul cruelly.

His face softens at your driven entreaty. “Of course. Though I am not worried about him. Rather, it is for you.” Your brows shoot up your forehead in surprise.

“Me?”

“Yes. It is no secret monsters have magic. It is also no secret who is participating in these talks. Not anymore at least,” he adds darkly. “And I would wager who we spend our time with will also come to light, eventually, if it has not already.” He leans forward, inky eyes, normally warm like honey, turning steely. “You will be recognized. And if they feel they can’t go after Sans, they may turn on you.” Yours eyes widen, fingers gripping the cup so hard it rattles against the saucer. You tear your eyes away from his authoritative gaze to lose yourself in the rippling surface of your tea. He’s right. You know in your soul he’s right. Your eyes dart as you think. This shit has been happening for centuries, ever since people saw and realized all the differences between each other. Differences that should be wonderful and celebrated, but often are only hated and exacerbated by a fear of the unknown. You’ve already been called out twice on it, just because you’ve been seen with monsters. But you pause, exhaling to settle your pounding heart. You can’t let this frighten you. Fear is what drives people to overreact, the exact cause for why Asgore is warning you now. Forewarned is forearmed. You lift your eyes to meet his concerned and waiting ones. “I asked you here so I could warn you. So that you’re not caught off guard should something happen. I am not saying it will. Myself, Sans, and the others will make sure nothing does. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention it.”

You nod, the fire of determination blazing in your soul and gaze. “Speaking of Sans, did you warn him of this too?”

He leans back and takes a sip of his tea, contemplation etching his brow. You watch him, focused. “I have not as of yet. I am afraid I am not as tactful as I would like when it comes to things that _need_ to be done. It was not always that way. The position in which I have found myself for many, many years has changed me.” His voice lowers to a rumble as it drifts off in somber remembrance. “As I see you two together, it is becoming more and more apparent that he would not be complacent if I warned him of your proximity to danger. So now, I entreat you, ___.” He leans forward once more, that commanding air surrounding him again. “Would you please speak with him and get him to understand? I understand his concern. I feel it too, and many years ago, I would have felt it exactly as strongly as I am sure he will, but what we are trying to accomplish is also important.”

You nod slowly, gradually accepting what you need to do. You sigh. Sans is _not_ going to be happy about this. “I’ll do what I can, Asgore.” He inclines his head gratefully as he sets his tea cup down. You echo his movement. He gets up from the chair to stride over to you. His large paw takes your hands in his, completely enveloping them. He peers at you seriously.

“This does not mean I do not take your safety as a matter of utmost importance. Please understand that. I am trying to safeguard all my fronts so _everyone_ will be safe.”

Your smile is kind as you squeeze his warm, furry paws. “Of course, Asgore. I want my family safe and equal too. _That’s_ what’s most important to me.”

The regal illusion is broken as he smiles brilliantly, canines flashing through his beard. He pulls you up and wraps you in a warm hug that you return tenfold. He pulls back, paws grasping your shoulders. You stare up at his glittering eyes. “Thank you, ___. We consider you family as well.”

Your soul dances and you grin up at him, no words forthcoming and none needed.

“How about more tea?”

\----------------------

You step up to the skeleton brothers’ door, catching the high cackle of Papyrus and low, rolling chuckle of Sans. It eases the turmoil your heart is feeling somewhat. The door swings wide as you step through, Sans having told you it was open already. You set your backpack by the coat rack and hang up your coat and scarf above. Papyrus strides into the hallway and scoops you up into a whirlwind of a hug.

“HUMAN! I am glad you are joining us for dinner!”

You laugh, hugging him back as tightly as you can. Though he’s just wearing his ever-present scarf, a regular shirt and long pants instead of his armor, you still find it hard to wrap your arms around his broad torso. “Me too! Thanks for the invite.”

He swings you back and forth. “DO NOT BE SILLY, YOU ARE ALWAYS INVITED!”

You giggle and say, “You’re pretty great, you know that, Paps?” then place a quick peck to his cheekbone.

He laughs with you as he sets you down, faint orange blush dusting his face. “NYEH HEH HEH! Yes! I did know that!” He turns and bounds back into the kitchen to finish dinner and you follow into the living room. A gravelly voice sounds out from the couch.

“hey, babe. how’s it goin’?” Sans asks. He looks up from the couch where he’s laying down, feet propped up, hands behind his head. You smile and lean over the headrest and his reclining form.

“It’s alright. Better now I’m here.” you say with a loving smirk. You bend lower, pressing your lips to his mouth in tender greeting. His bones rattle and are accompanied by a contented sigh emanating from the center of his chest. His hand comes up to slide along your cheek and jaw up into your hair. You share his same reactions, a delightful heat razing your body to its core. You separate and move to his forehead, quick peck gracing the smooth bones. He moves his skull to the side as you balance partway on the headrest, looking down at him.

“so how was asgore’s?” And there it is. Your heart explores some acrobatics, but thankfully your soul marches steadily on. The kiss gave you some courage.

“It was ok. We just talked about some things.” His pupils flicker in curiosity, waiting. He doesn’t ask, not yet, just waiting for you to spill the beans. You’re not sure he’s gonna like these beans. You run your hand through your hair trying to act nonchalant. “He talked to me about you. And what you’ll be doing with him, Frisk, and Toriel.” His brow gets higher before furrowing and turning himself over to look at you properly. You continue, bracing yourself. “He warned me,” you manage to finally get out.

“warned you?” His voice grows deeper with concern and confusion.

You shift nervously, courage fading at the appearance of his alarmed tone. “Yeah. About how people might react to a new face in the talks. That I should be careful. That…people might be angry and if they can’t take it out on you, well…they might take it out on me.”

Sans’ eyes disappear.

You hold up your hands, trying to placate him, the anger you feel coming off him shipwrecking your stomach and your resolve. “Baby, it’s alright.”

He cuts you off as he comes off the couch like a shot. He’s livid, magic crackling in the air. He whispers harshly, fighting to keep his voice low, “no, it’s not, ___.”

 “Sans… it’s really ok,” you insist.

He can’t help the volume of his voice now. “stop, it’s _not_. i’m not gonna do it. not if it puts you at risk.”

You hear footsteps behind you, and you turn with wide eyes to a confused Papyrus. Ah, shit. “Sans? Human? Is everything alright?” Sans turns, shoulders hunched as he drags a hand over his skull with a sharp scrape.

“it’s fine, paps,” he deflects. You raise your brows, feeling incredibly stuck. Until Papyrus speaks up.

“No it is not, brother. Please do not lie. What is wrong?”

Sans exhales gratingly, before grinding out between his bared teeth, “you’re right, it’s _not_ fine.” He turns back, pupils still gone. “i’m not gonna help asgore. not if ___ is in danger. which he warned them they could be,” he growls out now. Papyrus turns his concerned gaze to you, a question in his sockets.

“He asked me to come by and talk today,” you explain to him, but then turn your attention to a still seething Sans. “But babe, nothing’s even happened yet. And it most likely won’t. Asgore was just giving me a heads up. Better to be careful than unprepared.” You get off the couch and move towards him, but he backs away, shaking his head. Your heart plummets, aching from the pain on his face. But your determination to keep his head above water rises. “Sans!” you say more forcefully. You grab his shoulders, faster than he can move away. He raises his skull to meet your gaze, left eye flashing. Your fingers press into his shoulders.

“Sans, you don’t even know what’s going to happen. Nothing could happen!”

“___ is right,” Papyrus interjects. Your soul beats a quick pulse of relief at Papyrus’ opinion. You won’t deny any help.

Sans' arms raise and you fear he’s going to push you away, but he doesn’t. They encircle you, clutching you tightly into him. “you don’t know that,” he rumbles, head tilting toward his brother. “neither of you do.”

“Well neither do you,” you retort. He growls again, eye still flashing.

“i’m not going to take the chance of you getting hurt, or worse.”

You frown and say, “Sans, what you’re gonna be doing is important.”

He pulls you close, his eye flashing even brighter as his pupils come back with a vengeance. His mouth grazes your ear as he murmurs just for you to hear and witness, “not more important than you. nothing is more important than you or your safety. you mean the world to me. much more than what i’d be doing. i couldn’t give a shit about that.” He places his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “i can’t lose you. i won’t.”

You raise both of your hands and cup his face. He sighs heavily and leans into your touch. But it’s broken when a shadow stretches across you both, and you look up to a softly smiling Papyrus. He claps a hand to Sans’ shoulder, tone encouraging as he asks, “Brother, should we stop doing good things or being good people because we fear the alternative?”

“Because of the unknown?” you add. He doesn’t answer, just squeezes you. You rest your cheek against his cheekbone, whispering, “Should we break up just because we don’t know what the future’s gonna be like?” His head shoots back, brow furrowing in consternation. You tilt your head and look at him with a wry expression. “Should we just give up?” You meet his intense gaze.

“it’s not the same,” he says, indignant.

 “Tell me how it’s not.”

He pauses, glancing at Papyrus briefly before drawing you near again, answering quietly, “because i love you. because i know _our_ future. and i think you know too, ___.”

You sigh and pull back, giving him a faint smile. “Still, Sans. Don’t worry about things that probably won’t even happen. Don’t give up. For me. Or Papyrus.” His face crumples in concern and defeat. Papyrus’ hand tightens on his shoulder.

“It will be alright, brother. We will all keep ___ safe. THE GREAT PAPYRUS would not let it happen! Nor Undyne,” he adds with a cackle. You look up at the grinning and confident face and you believe him. Now you just hope Sans will too. Sans stares hard between the both of you, hands still gripping your back and waist. He sighs, weighted, the anger in it dissipating and routed.

“ok,” he admits. Papyrus proceeds to pick the both of you up in a mutual hug without hesitation. He squeezes you both one last time before setting you down.

He calls as he leaves for the kitchen again, “Dinner should be done soon!”

As soon as Papyrus is gone, Sans crushes you to his chest, burying his face into your hair and neck. His breaths are ragged. Damn him, he loves the both of you so much. His soul still rebels against the decision, raging in his chest. He believes Papyrus when he said they’d help keep you safe, and the stars know he will too. But he also knows he won’t always be around you to do that. And neither will they for that matter. There’s so much goddamn room for error, it’s _almost_ laughable. While he does realize the importance of what he’ll be doing, he meant what he said. You’re what’s important. You and his brother. Now, more than ever, does he realize how much he will have to trust you. Trust that you’ll be honest with him, that you’ll be careful and do whatever you can to keep yourself safe in addition to absolutely anything and everything he’ll do to ensure it as well.

“We’ll be careful together. A team,” you murmur, almost as if you read his mind, pressing a soft kiss against his mouth. He groans, bringing you closer. He takes a moment before pulling back, pupils burning serious and intense.

“if something happens, and i mean _anything_ , i’m out. at the very first sign.” You nod, catching the severity in his promise. His hands come up to your face now. He reiterates, “please…be careful. i will too.”

“I will. We both will. Asgore will make sure too.”

His face darkens as he says, “he conveniently forgot to mention all of this _to me_.”

“Because he thought you’d react like this. He asked me to do this.” He just frowns, growling resonantly in his chest and hugging you tight. “At least he warned me. What if something happened and he knew, but didn’t say? You’d be even angrier. And so would I, to be honest.”

“dunkfest.”

You chuckle, hugging him back. He presses small kisses to your hair, stroking your back. When Papyrus yells, “DINNER IS READY YOU ‘LOVEBIRDS,’ AS UNDYNE SAYS!” Sans takes your hand gingerly, leading you into the kitchen.

But a determination sears through his bones that would rival even the strongest human. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update was a little late! BUT IT'S UP NOW *sweats* 
> 
> I drew a thing yesterday to make up for it, so check it if ya want overrrrrrr hereeeeeeeee----------------
> 
> \--------> ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com
> 
> ENJOY <3


	32. Demonstration

Sans sighs, long and heavy. Today is probably going to be the day. The past week has been…hectic. Most of your days have been spent doing research for the papers you have to write for your classes, while his have been spent corresponding with Asgore on the upcoming meeting. Sans had confronted him on what he had warned you about. Asgore was understanding at least. He assured Sans you would be safe, which almost put him at ease. But instead was only replaced by Asgore’s insistence on Sans trying this out. His emotions have been a freeway, speeding, his anxiety only growing the closer he gets to this meeting. Coupled with a lack of seeing you regularly, it only serves to put him on edge. And that’s one of the many reasons why this needs to happen today. You need to know what he and Papyrus can do.

His hand drifts over the one resting light on his sternum. It provides a nice contrast to the storm going on underneath those gentle fingers. He turns his skull to face your sleeping form. It causes a smile to catch on his face. Your hair is mussed all across your face, the only visible part being your mouth, slack-jawed against the pillow. Some people may not think you look particularly glamorous in this instant, but he thinks you’re incredible. It’s an amusing sight, but it does nothing to lessen how beautiful he still thinks you are. He wonders how often he’ll wish he could just stay in one moment with you, but the rest of him denies it, too used to such notions. Too weary. But progression isn’t always easy either. Which is why he’s not looking forward to today. He doesn’t want to see your reactions to what he can do. He doesn’t want to frighten you; to see fear take covetous hold of you, cruelly widening your eyes and draining the blood from your face. He doesn’t want to see that. That possibility frightens _him_.

Nor does he necessarily want you to be blown away. He thinks it’s kind of stupid, and that you wouldn’t really ever view it this way, but he wants you to love _him_ , not just his magic. It is a part of him. But not the only part. His hand tightens around yours. He trusts you. You already love him for him. That’s not going to change. But it is part of the cloudy menagerie of errant thoughts floating through his mind this morning. He gives your hand one last squeeze before slipping out of bed with a rustle of the sheets. He stretches, bones rattling out their strained clicks in the quiet morning air. He hears shifting and grumbling behind him and he turns. You’ve curled up around his pillow, face now buried beneath the surface. He chuckles faintly in his throat as he pulls on a pair of shorts and shirt. As he steps out of his room, shutting the door behind him, he hears Papyrus rooting around in the kitchen. He shuffles in, surprising his tall brother.

“Hello Sans! I did not expect you to be up this early.”

Sans shrugs, settling down in a chair at the table. “couldn’t sleep much.”

Papyrus turns, brow raised. “Was it another nightmare?”

“nah,” he deflects, steering clear of that subject for now. “more about stuff i gotta show ___ today.” He grins up at Papyrus. “and i want ya to help me.”

Papyrus clutches the plates to his chest, vibrating excitedly. “I WOULD LOVE TO HELP!” He pauses, confused. “What am I helping with?”

“they wanted to see what our magic can do.”

Papyrus gets even more excited if possible. “SO YOU WOULD LIKE TO TRAIN WITH ME?!” he practically yells.

Sans can’t help laughing, even though he doesn’t want to wake you up just yet. “yep.”

“THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME BROTHER!” Papyrus jumps into the air, ecstatic grin on his face.

“i’d say no bones about it, but ya know…there’s gonna be bones.”

“I SHALL FORGIVE YOU FOR YOUR PUN JUST THIS ONCE.”

Sans chuckles and gets up from the chair and crosses over to the coffee maker. In no time, the scent of roasted beans fills the kitchen and house in a delicious haze. He fills his mug and joins Papyrus at the table.

His brother says, “I think this will be good for them to see.”

“i s’pose,” Sans answers, “they were curious.”

“I believe knowing what we can do may set their mind at ease about their safety.”

 _In more ways than one_ , Sans thinks as his mind drifts to your soul. He nods, becoming reticent. “paps.”

Papyrus looks up from his spaghetti, curious.

“ya think they’ll be scared?”

Understanding washes over Papyrus’ angular features, eroding them. “I do not think so. Being scared comes from not having confidence! And they have that! Lots of it! They know we would never hurt them. I believe they may want to know because it will help them and help us.” Sans nods, contemplating what his brother said. He trusts his judgement.

He smiles as he takes a sip of his coffee. “thanks, bro.”

Papyrus says happily, “It is no trouble, brother! Just have confidence!”

“I think you have enough to go around, Paps,” a rugged and sluggish voice sounds out from behind Papyrus. Both brothers whip their attention to a groggy you standing content in the entrance to the kitchen.

“Good morning human!”

Sans grins lovingly at you, saying, “morning,” to you as well. Your eyes are tired, but not from lack of sleep. More from that initial process of waking up. Your cheeks are slightly flushed and a line from his pillow finds its home down one side of your face. But your plump lips are tilted in a soft smile and you’re wearing his sweater. His chest tightens at the sight. He remembers when you wore one of his shirts for the first time and that feeling of satisfaction has only gotten stronger over time. You place a small kiss on Papyrus’ skull, then his own before pouring yourself a mug of coffee. You return to the table and sit between the brothers.

“We are going to show you magic today! Sans is going to train with me FINALLY!” Papyrus exclaims. Your brows shoot up in surprise. You weren’t really expecting that today.

“Awesome. And you guys are ok with doing that, right?” They both nod. You smile and you remove your hand from your pocket to place it on Sans’ knee, stroking the bone gently. His hand responds, covering yours. You gaze at them, saying, “Thank you guys. Really.”

Sans nods and squeezes your hand as Papyrus answers, “OF COURSE!”

This should turn out to be an interesting day.

\-------------------

You sit on the back porch, arms wrapped around your covered legs. You shiver even though you have your jacket over Sans’ sweater and a scarf tied around your neck. The cold has descended swift and stark over your town, ingratiating itself in your lives with a vengeance. The wind has been taken over as well, chill threading its way through every stray breeze that stirs up your hair and the falling leaves beside you. It doesn’t break your concentration though. You’re not sure how it could. Everything about what you’re about to see transfixes you. You don’t know what to expect, but you do know it’ll be a spectacle.

Sans and Papyrus are squared off in the browning grass, about twenty yards or so apart. Air stirs the cracked leaves around them in quick eddies and snaps Papyrus’ scarf. He’s standing tall, hands on his hips as he looks at Sans, who’s slouching, lackadaisical and lazy. You wonder if he should be getting more ready for this, but…you’ll just have to trust him.

Papyrus shouts, “Are you ready brother?”

“nah, i’m sans,” he drawls, winking at you. You smile, tucking your chin in your scarf, heartbeat accelerating in anticipation.

“UGH, OKAY!” he yells and then something happens you’ve never seen before. Papyrus’ right eye flares to life, to a brilliant and dancing orange and yellow, an astounding inverse to Sans’ eye. You inhale and stare in shock. It casts harsh shadows across the points of his face as he drops into a fighting stance. His arm digs a trough through the air and up spring a line of bones, traveling quickly towards the still-remarkably-at-ease Sans. Your brow stitches together in concern, leaning forward, hand dropping to grip the wood beneath you.

But Sans disappears.

He phases back just to the right of the bones as they pass. But Papyrus obviously anticipated that, sending row after row of long, white bones in Sans’ direction. Sans evades them almost too easily, hands still stuffed in his hoodie, the flames of his own eye licking the air.

His grin widens as he calls out, “c’mon bro, throw me a bone here.”

Papyrus stomps the ground as he yells in frustration, arms then whipping through the air to do exactly as Sans asked. They whiz, slicing the air on their way to Sans. There’s an incredible amount of projectiles and your soul starts to twist in worry. But Sans continues to teleport about, blurring in and out so quickly you find it hard to catch him yourself. Papyrus realizes he’s not making any headway, so he shakes it up, sprinting with long strides to Sans. As he runs, a long club-like bone materializes in his gloved hand with a snap, swinging it in a wide arc.

And that’s when Sans responds.

He throws up one hand and a wall of bone explodes from the ground as it meets Papyrus, bone colliding with bone in a sharp smack that rings out in the brisk afternoon. Sans teleports away, glancing to you quickly once he touches down. You meet his look, focused and determined as you watch, fingers tangled in the fabric of your jeans.

“ever heard of blue stop signs?” he calls out to you.

You tilt your head in confusion, but apparently he doesn’t expect a response because he sweeps his arm out broadly, and a rippling wave of blue bones swim outward to Papyrus. But he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Why isn’t he moving? Your heartbeat is frantic as you watch in distress. You can’t help the horrified, “Papyrus!” that spills from your mouth as the bones topple over him.

Your hand claps over your mouth as you stare wide-eyed at a perfectly fine and smugly-grinning Papyrus.

“It is alright human! You do not move for those!” Relief floods through your body, your hand dropping to grasp your scarf tightly. You meet Sans’ unreadable gaze. It’s a thick mix of weary, concerned, reluctant, relieved, and satisfied. But most of all, it looks _used_ to this. In every way possible, both bad and good. Sans sticks his hand back in his pocket, relaxing somewhat. He starts to turn to you, but is stopped by a shout from Papyrus.

“That is not everything, brother.”

You look between the both of them, catching Sans’ weighted sigh. “do they really need to see that, paps?”

“I think they should.”

His hesitation resonates all the way from where he’s standing. You just patiently wait, neither urging nor denying. This is his choice, not yours. You prop your head on top of your arms folded on your drawn knees, looking at him. He meets your eyes briefly before turning back around. His strained smile is set as he rolls his shoulders. Then you see his eye blaze brighter, flashing between blue and yellow consistently now. Metallic whirring fills the air, slashing it apart. It sends a shudder down your spine and you instinctively curl into yourself, protecting your body and soul. Next to Sans the very atmosphere shimmers, pulling apart and piecing itself back together completely unlike the way the other bones materialize to form a truly wicked looking being. Ever since its arrival a throbbing hum reverberates through the air. It’s a murmuring, a rustling of the fabric of the world, ominous and low. It settles deep and stiff in your own bones. It’s made of bone, there’s no doubt about that. It’s also huge, nearly the size of your truck. You have no doubt it could destroy it. A shadow casts over your heart and soul as you peer, wondering if this is what Sans had to resort to when fighting Frisk. Its crooked spines and horns feed into a gaping maw filled with vicious teeth. Its mouth houses that same blackness, out of which pours the cyan light of Sans’ eye.

But it’s the eyes that truly pin you to the ground. In every way they are replicas of his eye, except for warmth. These are cold and depthless; unfeeling but containing an intelligence not entirely unlike Sans’; loyal to a fault you’d guess if it is aware of its existence and who calls it. They roll in the sockets, almost wild, but tethered.

Then they fall on you, staking you right through to your soul.

You become rigid, a tiny gasp escaping your chapped lips. You can’t look away, your gaze trapped. You think vaguely that this must be what it feels like to be a rabbit caught by the slitted eyes of the snake. But your soul thumps strongly, bringing you back. You close your mouth and set your jaw, a vigorous feeling of survival and defiance fueling you. You stare right back at those cold eyes. They smolder for a moment longer before releasing you and looking over and up to Sans. The tension ebbs and you’re free to meet Sans’ concerned and, thankfully, warm eye. He looks down, flames dimming and calming. The humming follows suit and the being drifts apart back to wherever it came from. The silence fills the world, reality replacing the otherworldly presence.

Papyrus makes his way back over to you, Sans trailing behind, expression unsure. You hug your knees and smile at them, saying, “That was pretty impressive.”

“NYEH! I went easy on him!” You laugh and you spy Sans relaxing at the sound of your laughter.

“I’m glad you did,” you say as you wink at Sans. A chilly breeze blows past and you shiver, trembling all the way up your spine. You yelp, “Wooo!” before laughing again, tucking your chin in your scarf. Sans and Papyrus laugh with you.

“Would you both like some hot chocolate?” Papyrus asks, excited.

You tilt your head and rock back, gazing up at his grinning face. “Yes, please!”

“sounds sweet, bro.”

Papyrus throws up his hands groaning. “You will be lucky if you get any after that one!” he yells as he walks back inside. You turn back to Sans, chuckling. Your legs spread and you pat the step below you. He smiles faintly and plops down heavily on the stoop, wood creaking beneath you both. You lay your hands and arms over his shoulders and down the front of his chest, chin resting on the top of his skull. His back meets your front and you feel the tension leave his bones. You kiss his skull tenderly. You feel him hum.

“Thank you for showing me,” you murmur.

“yeah. just hope…you weren’t scared or anythin’,” he admits.

Your lips purse. “Not really. I was surprised though.” You pause and you feel him stiffen from anticipation. “What was that skull?”

“gaster blaster,” he replies after a moment, his voice quiet.

“It seemed different. More than just…magic,” you gesture vaguely, trying to catch such an intangible concept.

His hand rises to take yours, bony phalanges slipping smoothly between your fingers. “’cause you’re right. they’re not just magic. they’re from the void.” You’re silent as you contemplate, idly massaging his hand with yours.

“Are they sentient?” you ask.

“to a point.”

“Thought so. It looked at me,” you whisper.

He leans back into you. “i wouldn’t let ‘em hurt you. only use ‘em if i really need to.” You know what he means.

You kiss his skull again, hugging him tightly. “Well I’m glad you don’t have to use them anymore.”

He lets out a half-hearted laugh. “yeah, me too, baby. me too.” His chuckle trickles into you, spinning and growing as you laugh too.

“You know, all those bones are cool and all, but I promise, it’s still nothing compared to my chocolate-eating abilities.” He shares your laughter now, genuine and hearty, coming straight from the center of him. It makes you grin and warm with affection. You bend your head and stuff it in his hood, nipping and kissing his neck as you say, “I’m kind of a monster when it comes to chocolate.” His laughter deepens, his hand squeezing yours as the apprehension leaves the rest of his body.

“i’d pay to see that,” he manages to get out.

You smirk. “How much are you willing to pay?”

He hums under your mouth. “name your price.”

You rest your hot cheek against his skull and whisper to him as Papyrus steps out with three mugs. He yells, “HOT CHOCOLATE HAS ARRIVED!” Sans starts and you laugh, watching the blue blush spread across his face like a wave. You pat Sans’ chest as you lean back to take a mug from Papyrus, still chuckling. He sits next to you both and the three of you enjoy the weak light of the afternoon turn from burnished gold to velvety pink and blue. Your fingers greedily leech the heat from the mug as you listen. None of you are talking, but that doesn’t mean it’s silent. Bluebirds, cardinals, finches, and crows flit about the yard, calling and chattering to one another in high chirps or throaty caws. They accompany the lilting buzz of grasshoppers. And all of it’s whisked about by the crisp wind, a blender of sound and movement and life. It’s an evening much needed. Both for you and for Sans. And probably Papyrus too. The anxiety has been thick; you’d been feeling it all week. Not only from your frantic researching but also from Sans. You know he’s nervous about the upcoming meeting. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t as well. The only thing either of you can do is roll with the punches and support each other. You know now what they can do, and you’re sufficiently reassured they can handle themselves. Your lips press against Sans’ skull.

But what does that mean for you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this is a late update, haven't been feeling very well lately. But I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and kudos and bookmarks and AGH EVERYTHING. You continue to be as much an inspiration to me as my dear skeletons. Keep being rad.
> 
> Come look at this nonsense! I draw shit sometimes too! : ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	33. Stress*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit content!

You wipe the tears away as you lay on the wooden deck. Residual chuckles tumble out of you as you stare up at the encroaching dark of the sky. You feel Sans leaning on your knees. It’s comforting. There’s a grounding quality to the weight. A heaviness that keeps you settled and calm and here in the moment with the brothers, something that is so needed right now as you try to forget the amount of work you have to do.

But, in true form for your mind, as soon as you think about it, it latches on, digging its claws into your conscience. It won’t budge, not until you give it precedence.

You let loose a loud sigh and sit up. Sans turns and focuses one waiting pupil on you. You smile at him, already tired for the work ahead. “Think I gotta go you guys. Have a lotta work to catch up on.”

“work’s for squares. and you’re pretty soft and round.”

Your laughter picks up right where it left off. You make a show of trying to wrap your arms around his middle. He’s laughing too, body shaking. You pat his strangely rotund center. “Same could be said for you, ya big blueberry.” He lets loose a loud bark of laughter, low timbre echoing out in the yard. Papyrus joins in, adding his high voice to the mix. Sans squeezes your calves before standing, still chuckling. He holds out his hands to you, which you take, skin sliding over white bone. He tugs you up as Papyrus stands as well, leading the way inside. You follow but feel a pinch on your hip. You start and whip around to a nonchalant Sans. He studiously ignores your stare, but can’t help the condemning grin that spreads across his guilty face.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” you whisper wickedly.

“what was that?” he asks, grin creeping into his tone.

“You’ll see,” you reply. All you hear is a chuckle. You gather all of your things from Sans’ room, stuffing them into your green backpack. Sans watches you intensely from the hallway.

“ready?” he asks when you step out. You nod and give Papyrus a quick hug.

“Do good work human! I know you can do it!” he cheers.

You laugh and smile, saying, “I will. Thanks, Paps.”

You turn to Sans who tells Papyrus, “be back in a bit, bro.”

He wags his finger accusingly. “Do not distract them, Sans!”

Sans laughs and holds up his hand in salute. You don’t miss the crossed fingers behind his back as he says, “i won’t. scout’s honor.” He flashes you a wink and holds out his arms to you. You step into the hug and he holds you tightly as he murmurs, “get ready.” You close your eyes as you feel yourself fall.

You touch ground in your room and then all you feel is Sans. His mouth is already pressed against your lips, his hands are already roving underneath your shirt. You laugh against his teeth, saying, “Scout’s honor, huh?”

He murmurs, entirely distracted by your jaw and throat, “well i’d have to be a scout for that.”

“Oooh, so sly,” you gasp as he nips your skin. “Aren’t you gonna distract me?”

“that’s the plan, babe.” He removes your backpack, dropping it to the ground. His hands lift your shirt up and over your head without much reverence. He wants you, his fill of you, before you disappear into your books, that much you can tell. He tugs you close and you do the same with his shirt, hands trailing down his ribs. “ya know, i’d love to pay that price now, but that deserves our full attention, don’t you agree?” he asks as he kisses you passionately.

You hum and breathe heavily under his touch. “Agreed, babe.” His kisses become more tender as he goes, his desperate fingers smoothed by love. You undress each other, sharing that intimate space; not quite one, not quite the other. He lays you down on the bed, easing himself on top of you, that comforting weight making a reappearance.

“i’ve missed ya,” he says quietly against your lips.

Your hands slide along his ribs, touching every bone, every divot, every crevice. “I’ve missed you too. It won’t be long before I’ll be done with everything. And then,” you arch your back and he groans, “we’ll be able to do more fun things.”

He kisses you again. You feel his eye flare to heated life as he says, “i look forward to it.” And then he’s inside you. Your head rolls back as you gasp, letting him take you. Your sighs harmonize with every thrust, with the heat that’s building. His hands roam, feeling you, possessing you. But you do the same with him. Your fingers scrabble and latch, tethering him to you.

His mouth skirts your jaw, murmuring, “i love you….”

You exhale, love flooding your body, filling your soul. It beats as steadily as your heart and then some. “I…I love you too, Sans….”

He feels you, feels your soul respond to him and his words. He can’t help but react the same way. His magic rushes, expanding his eye, his love, spurring him headlong to you and your mutual goal. You writhe under him, both lost to the haze of desire and love and lust. And suddenly, after what feels like a timeless moment, you both breach the wall, shuddering, gasping for breath, real or imagined. He hears you pant, “Sans…man…I fucking love you….” He chuckles, enjoying the feeling of you coming down around him for a little bit longer before his eye extinguishes and his pupils return.

“you’re incredible, babe.” His hands cup your face as he kisses you again. You make this contented noise in the back of your throat and, he’s gotta say, he falls more in love with it the more he hears it. He shifts and lays beside you, holding you close. “can’t we just stay like this?”

You press against him as you respond, “I mean…we could…. But I’d never get any work done.”

He nuzzles your jaw and throat, chuckling wickedly, “i could make ya work for somethin’.”

You laugh, your body shaking. “I bet you could.” You kiss his cheekbone. “But as much as I would love it, duty calls.” He groans, only slightly dejected when he pulls away if his pouting mouth is any indication. Your fingers stroke his face as you say sincerely, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to make time to hang out.” It’s all about striking that balance. It won’t be easy, but you have confidence. Enough at least.

A soft smile crosses his face as he sits up. “no worries. you’ll do great.” He leans in to kiss you once more. “just don’t work yourself to the bone,” he whispers, grinning. You laugh and tackle him, enjoying this last moment before resigning yourself to the books.

As long as you can make good headway with your papers, everything should be fine.

\--------------------

Everything is quite a bit less than fine.

At least you feel like it is. Research has been slow-going, the books kicking your ass up and down the pages. It’s like every time you start to get a good grip on your topic, you backslide a few steps and lose the connection. It’s definitely an uphill struggle. And it’s starting to take its toll on you. You haven’t been sleeping well, if at all, coffee is now your master instead of your friend, and you’re starting to feel the pressure, on your mind and your body. You’re becoming more and more aware of the rising anxiety that speeds up your heartbeat when you least expect it. It makes you feel guilty when you sleep, keeps you awake at night when you should be relaxed in Sans’ arms. And that’s another part of it. You haven’t been able to see each other much and you know for a fact that it has contributed to your overall deteriorating state. He’s noticed it too. He’s been really fucking great about it, all things considered. You try not to think about those worried glances, for the ones you do catch. You don’t have time to worry about your health, even though you probably should. You don’t want to give him even more to worry about, considering his meeting is approaching fast. You wish you could give him more of your attention to lower his own apprehension. The fact you feasibly do not have the time makes you feel even more guilty. Though you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel that same creeping concern in the back of your mind. What’s going to happen? Will Sans be safe? Will you be safe? All questions that keep coming back like a pack of rabid strays, gluttonous, fed by doubt and restlessness.

Everything feels so fast and yet so incredibly tedious. You just have to power through this. You’ve done it before, on your own even, so you can do it now. And that’s what you keep telling yourself, all the way to your bed after a long day at the library. You trudge across the plush carpet of your bedroom and fall on top of the covers with as much grace as a toppling statue. One eye unearths itself from the sheets to gaze blearily at your phone. You’d texted Sans when you arrived home and you should be expecting him at any moment really. He’s been keen on grabbing ahold of those quiet moments in your life recently, few and far in between though they are. You’re glad he’s taking them. Sans’ soothing and good-natured demeanor have been immensely helpful in calming you down. As you take into account your exhausted body, you think tonight is a good night for it. Your mind strays doggedly to work and meetings again, slogging through ideas and memories as you start drifting into sleep, when you hear that familiar pop.

“hey babe,” his low voice calls out through your silent room.

You grunt a tired greeting.

He chuckles and you hear his slippers shift lazily across the carpet to your bed. “lookin’ a little down there,” he teases as his hand weaves its way through your hair. Wow, that feels great. You grunt again, signaling your approval. “ya need sleep. let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” You nod and wearily right yourself. Your lips graze his mouth in a small kiss as you sway. When you pull back, you see the lights of his eyes pass over you, assessing. They dim. You smile faintly but don’t pay much mind as you stumble to your closet. You know you probably look bad. Hell, you don’t really feel too hot either. But you couldn’t care less. All you care about right now is Sans and your papers, both vying for your mind. You slip out of your regular clothes into a comfortable t-shirt and then you’re in bed. Your mind barely registers how you got there or Sans slipping in beside you. You do, however, feel him kissing your forehead. Sans. What would you do without him?

“How’re you?” you ask thickly, eyes closed already.

He gives a deep chuckle and hugs you close to him. “fine now.” You hum.

“Ready for meeting?”

“as ready as i’ll ever be.” His arms tighten.

Your hand pats its way blindly up to his face. His laughter grows. “Got you somethin’. Give it to you later,” you mumble, losing consciousness and articulation along with it.

“i’ll be waitin’. for now, sleep, babe.”

You do before he even finishes the sentence.

You’re falling. Falling through incomprehensible colors and colorless void. It’s almost pleasant. Until it’s not. The void advances like a wave, growing, throwing its weight around as if it doesn’t actually know how far into itself it goes. It consumes you.

Just as swiftly, it retreats. Colors swirl and return, showing a scene.

A scene you don’t know.

But you know the players.

Frisk stands hunched over. Tiny. Shaking. But a thread of dread trickles through you when you realize it’s not from fear that they’re trembling. You hear the sharp, raised pitch of their laughter. It sends chills through you. It’s maniacal, devoid of any humor but filled with a sonorous glee. You see the flashing glint of the knife in their tiny hand. You’re distinctly aware of what it can do, especially in the hands of… _whatever_ is crouching in front of you. And that’s what draws you to the other figure.

Your heart plummets.

Sans.

Oh god, it’s Sans.

No, no, no, nonononono….

He’s breathing hard, chest heaving. His ribs creak from effort and you can hear it all the way from the space you’re occupying. You see the cold, yet heated, blue-yellow luminescence of his eye reflect off the tiny droplets of sweat dotting his brow. His mouth is split in a grin – that mouth, oh god that mouth you just want to kiss, have kissed so many times – almost like it’s plastered on, through who knows how many years of practice. You try shouting his name, but nothing comes out. You can’t move. You can only watch, the unwilling audience to some sick standoff.

Your heart is tearing but it rends further when you see the crimson scarf around his neck. No…. Tears track down your face as the knowledge that Papyrus is gone too sets in. God, no…you moan in your head.

Then Frisk moves.

They’re so fast, how are they so _fast_? But to your bitter satisfaction and awe, Sans is faster, phasing in and out before they can land anything. You’re completely on edge, jerking as if you could control what happens. But you can’t. You’re _helpless_. Frisk is growing increasingly frustrated, yelling and stabbing the air where Sans had been. You’re mesmerized. It’s like a dance, deadly, and one misstep could mean the end for either one of them. You grimace. You think they’ve had a lot of practice.

Sans teleports far away from them, landing on shaky feet. He huffs and his grin widens as he raises his hand. His eye blazes and suddenly there are bones everywhere. Raining from the ceilingless area, sprouting from the ground like spears. God, they’re vicious, snapping, spinning towards Frisk. You get the feeling this isn’t even half of what he can do, especially if he becomes desperate enough. As it is, it’s a tremendous display of power as the bones grow in size and regularity. Frisk gets hit by some, but avoids the majority of the others. Sans whirls and shoots a few at Frisk’s chest. They tumble out of the way, but Sans shifts his feet, taking advantage of their imbalance, and a row of bones throws Frisk’s small body back, landing with a sickening thud. You wince. But not for long.

You don’t want them to win.

You couldn’t care less as long as Sans is ok.

Frisk screams in rage, but it’s cut off as their soul becomes highlighted, the deep red-nearly-black overshadowed by familiar blue. Sans’ hand stretches out like a claw, grabbing the air. You hear him speak, though you can’t understand. But that wonderful rolling voice is cut and made even more gravelly with pain and anger. And then he flings Frisk across the room against a pillar with a ferocity that truly scares you. You hear bones snap, and Frisk collapses to the ground. They move weakly, trying in vain to stand. Sans limps over to the tiny body. He’s crying, hand fisted in the scarf. God, you just want this to _stop_. If this is a dream, please just let it stop. Your own tears fall and you don’t know how much more you can take.

You have no earthly idea how, but Frisk manages to whip their hand up in a vicious arc. The hand holding the knife. Sans takes a step back.

But it’s too late.

You scream as you see the wide line slice across his chest. Your own chest tears, feeling as if they cut you too. He grabs the front of his blue hoodie – a jacket you’ve worn yourself many times – and stumbles back. His grin turns into a shocked laugh, but it’s hollow. Resigned. He knows. He knows where he’s going. But he knows he’ll be back. Back to this hellhole. Despair flashes briefly in his fading pupils. His beautiful eyes that are the stars in your life. He tries walking off, but falls to his knees with a clicking thud, and you see him start to disintegrate. Small trails of silvery dust whisp off his body and he gives one last smile as he pitches forward. When he hits ground, he explodes into a shower of dust and you’re screaming, sobbing, beating your fists upon the world for allowing this to happen, because you can’t believe, no you _won’t_ believe he can be gone just like that, that someone who is your entire life can just be erased, it’s unfair and you’re paying for it with your soul, because it’s gone, gone with him….

You rage until your voice is hoarse and you feel numb to everything. And that’s when you fall again. Or rather, are pulled up. Up out of the sunless and Sans-less sea, the waters of your misery and fear and anger.

Your watering eyes fly open and you realize you’re being shaken. You practically scream again, sobs tearing apart your wasted throat. Until you notice Sans hovering over you, those amazing eyes dim to the point of nothingness and filled with such fear and worry that it makes your heart and soul throb. Your tired and wild eyes fly around the room. Your room. Your familiar room. No trace of the nightmare. No Frisk. No blood. No _dust_. And that’s when Sans’ voice comes into focus.

“babe, _please_! it’s ok, it’s ok, i’m here…you’re safe,” he chokes out. His fingers dig into your arms, hard to the point of being uncomfortable. He’s shaking almost as much as you are.

You try to take a few deep breaths, but it’s hard and you gasp in your effort. Sans coaches you through it, whispering, “breathe, babe. that’s it…with me…,” as he pulls you up, hugging you tight against him. You feel his chest move in imitation and you follow, focusing on him, trying to hone your emotions, whittle them down from the untethered mass they are. You’re still crying, but out of relief. He’s here. He’s here, here, here…. _Alive._ Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you sob, fingers gripping his ribs and the back of his smooth skull. His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs, “shh, it’s ok now…it was just a nightmare. i’ve got you….” Your breathing evens, his scent washing over you, calming you, invading all of you. And you’re happy to let it. You want nothing else but him, forever. He feels you start to calm down. “good, you’re doing so well, baby.”

You manage to whisper in your wrecked voice, “I’m sorry….” He just holds you tighter as he shakes his head.

“no, don’t be sorry. never, ok?” You nod weakly. “do you wanna talk about it?”

You’re quiet for a moment, almost not wanting to relive the horror. Afraid. Afraid of what it could do if you did. He rubs your back and that spurs you. “You and Frisk. F-fighting. You…,” your tears come back as well as the images, terrifying in their vividness. “Y-you d-died…,” you manage to cry out. He tenses, but squeezes you.

“i’m here. i’ll never leave you. ever.” You just sob into his shoulder. “ _this_ timeline is the one that matters. the one where i’m alive and papyrus is alive and we’re together. the one where i love you.”

You murmur brokenly, “I love you too. So much… _god_ , it f-felt…like I really l-lost you….”

He kisses you, whispering, “shh…i’m here….”

He lays his hand on your sternum and you feel his magic hum against your skin. You’re reminded of just what those hands and that magic can do, but you are so far from caring. You know he would never hurt you and you know his magic is what will make everything alright in this moment. It’s him and you want anything and everything to do with him right now. You just want to forget it all; work, the nightmare, everything. Warmth spreads through you and your muscles finally relax. You sigh at the release of tension from your body, at the distinct feeling of _him_ flow through you. You don’t ever want it to stop. He feels you relax against him and you see his eye-lights return in force, bright and beautiful. You never want to see those leave again either. He eases you back down carefully, but still holds on tight. Like he’s just as afraid of losing you as you are of losing him. You don’t blame him. You just want to be held and hold him too.

“Was it really bad?” you ask, concerned.

Sans is quiet a moment. It was immediate. The instant you screamed, he had woken up, sat up in bed like a shot. And it _was_ a scream. Loud and pain-filled and guttural. God, he never wants to hear you scream like that again in his life. It was a heart-breaking, soul-crushing scream of fear and genuine loss. He felt it echo through him, strike deep into his soul. He feels like he’s screamed like that before, too, the first he-doesn’t-know-how-many times he lost Papyrus. You were thrashing though, yells cut off by sobs and he tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t, and his terror mounted. You were caught up in the storm and he could only watch as you were dying inside. Because that is _exactly_ what it sounded like. He wonders if he’s ever like that when he has his nightmares. He hopes not, for your sake. But then you finally woke up and he’s never been more relieved.

“it wasn’t good.” You close your eyes as the tears come again and roll into his chest, hiding your face from him, from the world, from everything that makes you feel weak and helpless. He whispers as he presses tender kisses to your head, “it’s alright, babe. it’s ok. i’m here….” You can’t help but feel guilty again. Your old friend. Not only do you feel terrible for putting him through this, making him relive those timelines in his head, when he could very well be sleeping peacefully. But also that you didn’t actually experience those things. You were witness to an idea, a story you’ve only ever heard from Sans. But to him it was real, good god it was realized so many times. Much more than you can count or even know. You don’t deserve to be comforted because you weren’t actually there. You didn’t _die_ the way he did. Tears slip free as you cringe. Shit, it sounds so fucking awful when that thought passes through your mind. You should be there for him, because he actually went through it. But you’re here, stewing unstably in the aftermath of an honestly terrifying nightmare, but his are so much worse. Yours don’t even count to you. So you hide. To protect and comfort yourself, because you have to be strong for him and lord knows you feel you don’t deserve otherwise.

He tries to pull back, but you refuse and he gives a surprised grunt. His hand comes to rest on your face, urging you. “babe…look at me.” You shake your head and nestle closer. “please.” He hesitates. “for me.”

You let out a small groan. How can you deny him anything at this point? So you obey, tilting your head up, but still avoiding the lights you so desperately want to meet. His thumb strokes your cheek.

“c’mon, babe. i know ya like my bones, but my eyes are up here,” he teases softly, lovingly.

You can’t keep the small huff of laughter from spilling out of your mouth as you meet his gaze.

“why are you hiding?” he asks. His low voice is smooth, easing you out of your inner storm.

How does he know you so well? Hammer, meet nail, because the accuracy causes you to start crying silently again, as if you were struck yourself. You blink, trying to get rid of them, but Sans beats you to it, wiping them away with a _swish_ of his thumb. You mumble, “Because…because I don’t deserve you…this….”

His brow furrows in confusion. “what do you mean? of course you do.”

You try to explain, saying, “’Cause you’ve actually been through it all and I have one stupid nightmare and it feels like the end of the world!” You’re starting to work yourself up in anger at yourself. You seethe for a moment before deflating. “You’ve been through so much…and I feel like I shouldn’t expect or deserve consoling…. I have to be strong for _you_.” It’s out there now, no way to get it back. Your mind and heart are both laid bare.

His brow creases more as he listens, and you see a mixture of concern and surprise and maybe even anger, but not quite. His hold tightens and his hand presses against your face, insistent on you listening to his next words. “don’t ever think that… _please_. it won’t ever discount what you go through. i’ll always be here for you and i know you will for me. you got that?” You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a kiss.

He murmurs, “no buts,” before pulling back once more. “we’re a team, remember?” You stare up into those luminous white lights, more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

You nod, saying, “A team.”

“you deserve everything i’m able to give, and more. and i won’t stop trying to be deserving of you and your love.”

You’re nearly speechless. “Geez, Sans…,” you whisper, your soul pulsing with love and affection.

“i mean it, babe.” And you know he does.

“Well it goes double for me.” He kisses you again.

“let me be strong for you, like i know you are for me.” You squeeze him tightly.

“…Ok.”

His hand shifts over your cheek. “you’ve been working so hard. no wonder your mind would pick now to do that. when you’re vulnerable and tired,” he mutters, thumb grazing your lips. “ya need a break.” You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you. “ya need to turn off, babe. for a day, at least.”

Off. Sounds fucking great to be honest. The offer is so tantalizing and you’re so far gone and over it all that you accept with open arms, your resolve scattered to the four winds. You nod, flashing him an exhausted smile as you kiss him.

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever had a stress nightmare? 
> 
> Those are fun.
> 
> <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	34. Respite

Sans wakes up the next morning feeling worn out. As he looks to you, he can only imagine you feel worse. You’re completely passed out, but it’s not restful. Your brow is furrowed as you curl into his side. He raises his hand to brush his fingers across your forehead, pushing back your hair. The taut string of tension relaxes just a bit and you sigh. That makes him feel a little better. He looks back up at the ceiling, mind drifting to coffee. He’s loathe to leave you alone in bed, but you’re both going to need it. But he…can’t bring himself to get up. He doesn’t want to leave you. So he turns on his side and wraps his arms around you and tries going back to sleep. He feels you snuggle into his embrace and his soul reacts, warming, pulsing. He wishes he could touch your soul, be able to mend your hurt himself. Not yet though. You melt from the heat and he closes his sockets, content with this for now.

It’s several hours later when you wake up. Your head pounds, blood and outside noise a rising clamor in your ears. Your eyes dig their heels in, not wanting to open, but you force them, blinking blearily into the growing light of your apartment. They take in the white, popcorn ceiling, the sun sifting gently through the curtains, and finally the hard, bleached bones of Sans’ chest. Visions of your nightmare come back and you cringe, as if you could shrink away from their assault. Your fingers trace a hesitant line down his sternum. You pull your clean hand away and exhale, fear dissipating. Instead, you rub the sleep and images of crimson and dust from your eyes, stretching against Sans’ arms as you do so. He does the same, noticing you’re awake, squeezing you tight. You laugh when he groans, bones shaking and rattling from the strength of his yawn. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“morning,” he mutters, voice thick from sleep.

“Morning,” you say as you kiss his sternum. He hums underneath you, making your lips vibrate.

“how are you?” he asks, more awake and concerned now. His fingers thread through your hair.

“Better. Tired still, but that’s not surprising.”

His hand drops to rub your back. “i bet.” You stretch under his hand, yawning once more, before extricating yourself from his embrace. Your hands drag down your face, wiping the sleep away, before laying one gently on his femur. He stares up at you from the pillows, eye-lights glancing over your face.

“Want coffee?” He nods, smile coming back.

“i’ll join ya.”

You pat his leg and slide out of the rippling sheets. You twist, straightening your back, the creaks joining the shifting of the bedspread. You hear Sans’ chuckle as you do so, smiling to yourself as you pull on your sweats. You walk by him and his fingers slip in and out around yours. You hold on tight as you both walk downstairs. You get everything ready, eventually standing in front of the kettle as it heats up. Sans is right behind you, arms circling around your abdomen, a cage to keep you calm and make sure you’re alright. You appreciate it. You close your eyes, the heat from the stove and Sans thawing the residual stress around your heart and soul. God, you appreciate everything.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You know he said to not be sorry. But you can’t help it.

“don’t be. it happens.”

You shrug. “It’s also for being so busy. Feel like I haven’t been helping you in preparation for the meeting.”

He hugs you tighter, chuckling slightly. “it’s like you said, you’re busy. ’m not a babybones, i understand.”

A small laugh escapes you too. The steam drifts out more forcefully, a slow stab into the relative silence of the morning. “Yeah, you’re a big bones.” His chuckles deepen. But you continue, “I…just know I’m nervous. I can imagine you might be too.” The kettle begins to squeal and you remove it from the burner, turning the stove off, distracting your hands and your heart. Sans is quiet when he turns you around. You look into his surprisingly calm face.

“not gonna tell you a fibula. i’m nervous too. but i’m trying to take what you said to heart.” His mouth falls. “we don’t know what’ll happen. like you said…nothing could happen.” You can tell that idea is still sour in his mind as he forces it out. “but we’ll take it as it comes, alright? together.” Your hands massage the bones of his forearms, your lips tilting upward.

“Together,” you echo.

The lights of his eyes brighten with a newfound level of seriousness. “i want you to do something for me, though.” You wait, giving him your full attention, drawn in by the severity of his deep voice, a vast expanse of meaning and concern. “i want you to tell me if anything happens, ok? and i mean anything. none of that keeping it to yourself to protect me bullshit.” You laugh and he joins you. But his fingers dig into your waist to drive home his point.

Message received. “If we’re gonna help each other and stay safe, we gotta be truthful. Both of us,” you say pointedly.

“you got it.”

You grab his face and kiss him hard, lips sliding over bone. He does the same, tugging you to him. Chuckles spill over, breaking the atmosphere. You pat his cheekbones as you say, “Now, for coffee.” He attacks your mouth one last time before letting you go, leaning on the counter as he watches you. You turn back to him as you pour the brew into the mugs, smiling softly. The sunlight catches you, emphasizes and deconstructs in the most beautiful ways. He returns your smile with his own grin. He’s glad you seem better. He honestly wasn’t sure how you would be this morning. He knows it takes a lot to recover from that, but he knows you’re strong. Damn, if you’re not the strongest person he knows. You pull him out of his mind, almost as if you read it yourself, when you say, “Thank you. For everything.”

He takes the proffered mug, stating matter-of-factly, “i love you.” It feels so good to say. He knows he’ll never get tired of it. And he’s positive he’ll never get tired of you responding.

“I love you too.”

\------

After coffee, you had cleaned up and taken a shower to get ready for the rest of the day. Sans joined you, taking advantage of the time, making up for all the moments lost. Wanting to make the most of your day off. As the water rained over you both, running rapid rivulets over skin and bone, eroding and cutting into the gasps and moans that threatened to echo around the tiled bathroom, you think you maybe understand his desire when he had his nightmare before. That need to forget. Be lost. Drift further away from yourself. Disguise the unease and doubt and panic in the consuming cloak of desire. Of course it’s not the same. But you understand.

Your mind isn’t used to this time off. It strays, wanting desperately to leave that path to work again. And when you become withdrawn, threaten to disappear, Sans is there to make sure you stay in the moment with a kiss, a touch, or a joke. But as the day goes by, turning off starts becoming comfortable. You and Sans are on your couch, you laying with your head in his lap, watching movies. It’s been a Mel Brooks kind of day. You always want to watch something funny after being scared and this is hitting just the spot. Not to mention the pint of delicious ice cream sitting on your chest. Coffee. Because what other ice cream is there? Sans has his own, and keeps resting it on your face.

“that’s you,” he says. You burst into laughter as you see Lili von Shtupp sing.

“I _am_ so tired,” you agree in your best faux-German accent. He laughs with you. “But if I’m her, then you’re Mongo.”

“sans have deep feelings for ice cream.”

You throw your arm over your face as you laugh, a loud snort escaping, forcing Sans to join you whole-heartedly. You feel a sudden ice cold sensation on your neck, the shock causing you to jump and tumble off the couch in your haste to get away from the offending chill. Your yelp morphs into wheezing laughter as you land with a thump on the floor. You hear Sans’ loud, boisterous rumble over you. You’re gasping for breath as you look up at the ceiling and the amused, grinning face of Sans. His eye is glowing and you realize your ice cream is no longer in your hands or even on the floor, where it should have found it’s new, viscous home.

You finally manage to get out, “Saving the ice cream over me? That’s cold.”

He barks out a sharp laugh. “told ya i had deep feelings for ice cream.” He bends, resting his forearms on his knees as he smirks lovingly at you. “our love is aflame with passion. it practically melts under my touch.”

You laugh again, grasping your abdomen. “Thought you had a passionate affair with Grillby. He’s gonna be incensed.”

“he’ll be chill about it,” he says smiling. You chuckle again, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Sans offers his hands and you grasp them, pulling yourself up into a sitting position against his shins. His hands drift to your neck and shoulders, fingers lazily skirting across the skin and muscles. He asks, “did you enjoy your day off?”

You sigh and nod, with a small smile lifting your lips. “Yeah. It was hard to relax at first, but think it turned out alright.”

“good. aren’t i a genius?” he teases.

“The smartest,” you agree with a laugh. “Still anxious to see you in a lab coat, actually.” You tilt your head back to look at him. His bright eye-lights are trained on your face, his fingers cupping your jaw. “Asgore is going to talk to the university, right?” He nods. “Do you know when?”

“nope. i assume sometime after the meeting. gotta work for it first i guess,” he chuckles.

An idea barrels its way through your mind, a freight train intent on reaching its destination post-haste. “Let me show you the campus!” You gasp in excitement, mouth in a wide _Oh_. “Me and Alphys can give you a tour, ‘cause I don’t know shit about the science side of campus!” He laughs, stroking your cheeks.

“we’ll both know shit about it then,” he agrees, pleased at your suggestion.

You and Sans sit together in comfortable silence and it’s not long before you start to become tired, the endless nights of researching compounding and catching up to you. You yawn more frequently, nodding off against Sans’ knees.

“babe,” Sans says, rousing you from your half-slumber. You look back at him, eyes half-closed as well. “let’s go to bed.” You nod in whole-hearted agreement, offering no argument. You stand and sway slightly as you regain your balance, adjusting to this newfangled upright positioning. You don’t think the style will catch on. Sans gets up with you, turning off the TV. But then he sweeps you off your feet. You provide no resistance to this either, reclining in your favorite skeleton’s arms the best thing to your addled mind. He gazes down at you, love occupying the same space as exhaustion in his bright eyes. You return it, arms circling his neck.

You say, voice slurring from sleep, “The best at carrying me for sure.” He grins, remembering and reinforcing it with a kiss. He carries you upstairs and you both slide into bed, holding the other close. Holding onto that moment because you both know it’ll be a while before it happens again. The hope for it to be soon is strong, felt in every tired kiss, every possessive touch, every loving word. The wish for it all to be over a firmament stretching far and wide.

\--------

Sans gets that wish, because before he knows it, the day of the meeting is here. He tugs at his collar and tie anxiously, staring up at Papyrus’ enthusiastic face.

“Stop messing with it, brother!” Papyrus yells as he bats Sans’ hand away with a sharp smack.

“it’s tight,” he whines.

“You are just not used to it because all you wear are hoodies.”

Sans pouts. “still.” He looks at his phone. It’s getting close. You should be here any minute. Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk are picking him up within the next hour. He could really use your presence right now he thinks as he becomes more and more aware of the apprehension settling in his bones. He jumps when a knock on the door reverberates throughout the house. Papyrus opens it and you’re standing there, wonderfully present. A potent mixture of emotions flit across your face as you stare at him. If he wasn’t self-conscious before, he most certainly is now. He picks up excitement, amazement, pride, and the same worry he feels. But overshadowing it all, encompassing it, is the same constant love, as ever-present as the grin upon his face. You step inside and give Papyrus a quick, warm hug before turning to him. His smile is tense and relieved all at once. You brush the sleeves of his shirt and tie, surveying him with a practiced eye.

Your eyes light up with a brilliant smile. “Very handsome. You clean up nice skele-man.”

He chuckles nervously as a slight blue blush coats his face. “heh, it was paps mostly.”

“Did you pick out the color, Papyrus?”

Papyrus grins and poses. “Yes! Blue _suits_ him, NYEH!” You laugh boisterously and the rhythmic sound eases and relaxes him.

“Great job, Paps. Could I make a suggestion?” Both Sans and Papyrus look to you, curious. “I just have something for him to wear underneath. If you want,” you ask Sans. Papyrus claps his hands in exuberant agreement.

He feels his pupils brighten as he responds, “uh, sure.” He leads the way into his room and you shut the door behind you. “feel like a mook,” he admits, turning to you.

Giggles flow relentlessly through you as you move close to him, your hand deftly removing his tie first. “I hear mooks are in this year,” you tease. Silence descends fast afterward. The proximity is intoxicating. It is every time, but now more than ever for some reason. There’s something about undressing that is so intimate, revealing yourself physically and emotionally. Trusting the other explicitly. You cherish these moments, like they’re your last. At least to you, it makes what you and Sans have real and alive and visceral. “You don’t need this. You’ll feel better without it,” you say, smile understanding. He slumps slightly in relief.

“thank you,” he mutters.

“’Course,” you say as you start unbuttoning his shirt. He slips off the dark blue dress shirt and you point to his undershirt before rummaging through your backpack. “Take that off.” When he does, you hold out a black shirt. He takes it from you, phalanges feeling the soft fabric. It unfolds and reveals a graphic design. His sockets widen nearly as much as the ecstatic grin on his face. The white lettering says: BONE-AFIED SCIENTIST. You stand, hands clasped in front of you, teeth working at your lip as you watch him. “I hope you like it. Couldn’t fucking find anything anywhere, so I had it made–” But you’re cut off as Sans kisses you, grateful, fast, and earnest. He pulls back and you blink, dazed but goddamn happy.

“i fucking love you, you perfect human.”

You burst into blushing laughter. “I fuckin’ love you too. I hoped it might put you more at ease.”

He pulls the shirt on, smoothing it over his bones. Great fit. “it does. thank you, babe.” He throws on the dress shirt, tucking and buttoning it up over the shirt. The dark color hides the lettering well. All he needs to know is that it’s there. _You’re_ there with him. He’s about to fix his cuffs, but you stop him, instead rolling each sleeve up, neat and trim. It already feels better. He watches you step back, holding your chin and tilting your head, lips pursed in thought. Satisfaction lands and lightens your smile and eyes.

“Casual, but stylish. The way to go, I think.”

He shifts his weight. “feels more comfortable.”

“That’s the name of the game, baby.” You open the door wide and guide him through with a sweeping gesture. “Your handiwork, Papyrus!”

He yells happily, “PERFECT!” Sans laughs and rubs his skull. All three of you go to sit on the couch and watch TV until Asgore arrives. Sans slips his hand into yours, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. But it’s faster than usual, a physical manifestation of his anxiety. You really feel for him, that same worry circling slow and steady in your soul. Confidence rests there as well. He’s so capable and smart, even if he doesn’t realize it himself. It’s your turn to hold him up. You have to keep that confidence. For him. For you. For Papyrus. You all can do this you repeat to yourself, sandwiching Sans’ hand between your own. You see his mouth lift faintly and his sockets close.

They shoot open when a car door closes. They’re here. Asgore’s towering form strides across the yard, at once commanding and comfortable. He’s in a suit and he wears it well, filling it out in authority and stature. You all rise to meet him at the door. Papyrus throws it open before he can even knock, shouting, “Hello Asgore!”

“Howdy, everyone,” Asgore says cheerfully, waving a large paw. Sans’ hand tightens around yours. Asgore’s dark eyes focus on him. “Are you ready?”

Sans nods and turns, folding you up in a close hug. You whisper, “I love you. Go save the world and shit.” He laughs, squeezing you.

“love you too.” He releases you but not before kissing you softly. You feel looks on you when you part and you blush in response, noticing Asgore smirking at you, knowingly. You cough, crossing your arms. You stare at him intensely, hoping your concern comes across to him. It does, because Asgore inclines his horned head, a reassuring smile hidden in his beard. Sans and Papyrus fist bump as he says, “see ya later, bro. keep ‘em outta trouble,” he drawls, good-natured, as he jerks his thumb to you.

Papyrus salutes him. “WILL DO!” You and Papyrus stand and watch them walk away to the car. They get in and pull out.

And then they’re gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT THIS ONE OUT ON TIME YOU GUYS (and slightly earlier than expected WOAH)
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me. I really wish I could write faster for you guys. But I hope you enjoy after all the craziness of last chapter <3
> 
> Follow and ask me stuff! : ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	35. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you so much for over 1000 kudos on this work. You all mean the world to me, and bring so much fun and laughter to my own life. 
> 
> So if you want, as a thank you TO YOU BBs, come over to my tumblr and request silly drawings or prompts or just ask me things about whatever. Don't be the shy.
> 
> http://ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com/

“Hello, Sans! How are you this morning?”

Sans takes a break from messing with Frisk’s hair to glance up at Toriel’s kind face peering from around the car seat. “jus’ peachy.”

“You look very nice.”

He chuckles, turning back to watch Frisk playing with his now-free hand. “heh, thanks. it was paps and ___ though.” He hears Toriel let out a giggle most wicked and he looks back up, brow raising. Her eyes are bright and twinkling with barely-concealed curiosity and mirth.

“And how _are_ you two?” she asks, slyly.

It’s Asgore’s turn to speak up, his deep voice rumbling in time with the car. “It seems they are doing _quite well_.” He and Toriel laugh together, all high bells and low gongs.

He clears his throat, fighting down the blush that threatens to rise. “doin' alright, thanks,” he mutters.

“ _Just_ peachy?” Toriel teases, but with that same kind smile gracing her face.

He laughs, closing his sockets and shrugging. “they’re _sweet_ alright.” Toriel’s giggles pick back up. When she calms down her voice gets a bit more serious. The difference is enough to make him open his eyes again to look at her.

“Are you ready for today?”

“s’pose so.” Frisk’s tiny hand slips into his larger one, giving him a small, but reassuring squeeze. His eye-lights train on them now. They don’t have to say anything. Their open face is painted with _Don’t worry_. He asks them, “ya gonna help me navigate this one, kid?” They nod vigorously, teeth flashing in an excited smile.

Asgore says, “You will be ok. They may ask you who you are and why you feel you should be there. He grimaces in annoyance. “Even though I have made it clear myself, many times.”

“i’ll just give ‘em the truth,” Sans says, resigning himself. His hand drifts to his chest, feeling the soft fabric against his ribs. Just focus on that. You’re here. And that gives him strength.

\------

“So what do ya think they’ll be talking about?”

Papyrus holds his jaw as he stares up at the ceiling. You follow his gaze as you both lay on the floor in his room. “I am not sure. I just hope everyone succeeds. Sans will be fine,” he adds, probably picking up on your nervousness. Your fingers pluck at the end of his crimson scarf. You push down the anxiety. You can’t worry just yet. Nothing’s even happened. Focus on the good, ___.

You change the subject for now, asking, “Where’d you get your scarf, Paps?”

He perks up just like you thought he might. “Oh, from Sans! He also made my battle body! But I find I do not need it as much up here,” he says cheerfully. It’s true. You haven’t seen him don the armor for a while, instead opting for colorful and decidedly more rad outfits.

“Sans made it for you?” you ask, pleasantly surprised.

You feel him nod, his skull rubbing against your hair. “Yes! For the Royal Guard position! It helped me train with Undyne a lot. My brother may be lazy, but he knows how to build things.”

You chuckle, happy smile lifting your face and your spirits. You lay the edge of his scarf over his sockets and he cackles. “Wanna show me your action figures?”

He scrambles to his feet, wasting no time as he yells, “YES!”

\-------

Sans walks down the brightly lit, marble hallway with Toriel and Frisk, Asgore leading the way. His hands fist in his pockets, idly fingering the stray strands of thread. Would it be in bad taste to wear a hoodie to these gigs? Might lighten everyone up a bit. The building holds its head high in haughty disagreement, boasting severity in the columns that frame the tall windows. That seriousness invades, infecting everyone inside. No casual air, the only casualties being those caught in the crossfire of politics. Sans gets this uneasy feeling as he takes in the architecture. He rolls his shoulders and tries to keep his pupils forward. Bit too familiar for comfort. Too close to home. He wonders if Frisk is picking up on it too.

His questions are answered when he feels their hand slip into his. He looks down and sees the strain in their dark eyes. He flashes them a calm smile and a wink. The tension breaks as they giggle. Toriel glances over as well, face softening.

“i got a question for ya, frisk,” says Sans, his low voice loud in the stone halls.

“What?” they ask, swinging Sans’ hand.

“why couldn’t the bike stand up?” They hum out loud as they think.

“I don’t know,” they give up as they scrunch their face in defeat. He chuckles as they round a corner.

“’cause it was _two_ tired.” Frisk claps a hand over their mouth as they laugh. Toriel joins them, her own laugh tinkling through the building like bells. Signaling that the time to be serious has ended and mirth reigns supreme here. They ascend a flight of steps and Sans slyly says, “never trusted stairs. they’re always up to somethin’.” Toriel and Frisk laugh louder, their voices reverberating. Sans beams, relieved at the lessening pressure. He even sees Asgore's wide shoulders relax, letting out a deep chuckle. They eventually slow, coming to stop in front of an impressive set of dark, wooden doors. Big enough for Asgore’s broad form to fit through comfortably. A well-dressed man stands at the entrance, his sharp voice cuts through the air as he says, “You may go inside. The others should arrive shortly.” Asgore and Toriel nod as they pass, and the man is unphased.  But when Sans walks by, his eyes do a double-take.

“thanks, pal,” he says amiably, his trademark grin finding it’s place once again on his face.

His own sockets widen by the tiniest of margins when he enters. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting. Maybe something along the lines of a courtroom. However, in the middle of the large room is a long, imposing wooden table. The polished surface shines, reflecting the high-set windows that, much like in the hall, are flanked by columns run through with speckled grains. He wonders what it means that he thought they’d be put on display like a trial. He scratches his skull as follows the rest inside. Boy, how jaded is he? Enough, he guesses. He didn’t trust you when you first met. And now look at him, head over heels for you. He takes a seat next to Frisk, who is next to Toriel, then Asgore. He leans back in his chair, pupils still looking around. He whistles and it slices through the silent room.

“not in kansas anymore, huh,” he mutters to himself. He glances down the table. Toriel is talking quietly with Frisk. Asgore, on the other hand, is as serious as he’s ever seen him. His large paws are folded neatly on the table and his posture is impeccable, looking every bit a king. His head turns, horns casting long shadows, meeting Sans’ impassive gaze. His dark eyes lose that edge as he smiles faintly. Sans inclines his head, still grinning. Seems like they both have their game faces on.

Their attention is shattered and reformed to focus on the people that begin to walk inside. Sans takes a good, long look at each one, memorizing faces, mannerisms, how they walk, talk. Act. There are four, mirroring their own entourage. Two men and two women. The two women and one of the men chat together as they enter, obvious in their comfort. The fourth, not so much. His discomfort could not be more obvious. Nor his thinly-veiled disdain.

Great.

He shoots Sans a shocked look, lip curling the slightest bit.

Does he dare?

Asgore rises, smiling kindly. Sans and the rest follow. “Good afternoon,” Asgore says happily, but not without that undercurrent of authority. The men and women nod and return the gesture. He continues, “As I have said, I have brought with us today a citizen to aid in negotiations. Please, welcome Sans.” The four turn to him. He smiles amicably, telling they’re slightly unnerved. The three from before have the good graces to not show it right on their faces, but the man across from him puts forth little effort.

Oh, he dares.

Sans sticks out his hand to the man, saying, “nice to meet ya. sans the skeleton.”

The man stares at it for a bit too long before taking it reluctantly, muttering, “Senator Robert Moore. Likewise.” But a sharp, electric buzz sounds out and he yelps, rapidly letting go of Sans’ hand. Sans chuckles, watching the man sputter and react with an inner wicked pleasure. An angry expression crosses his red, ruddy face, seeming as if he’s about to shout, but Frisk’s peals of laughter ignite the other three into chuckles.

The taller of the two women recovers and says, “I haven’t seen one of those in years! Lighten up a bit, Senator.” He grumbles as he sits. She extends her dark hand to Sans and he takes the warm offer. He likes her already.

“ya know, the cold goes right through me, but i think it’s a decent ice-breaker.”

She laughs and says, “Well, it worked. Dr. Evelyn Thompson.”

He’s intrigued. “md or phd?”

“Phd,” she says with a broad smile.

“you’ll have to enlighten me on the field,” he responds. She nods and sits down. He turns now to the shorter woman, shaking her hand as well.

“Senator Amy Lee. Truly a pleasure, Mr. Sans,” she says, sweetly.

He laughs at that. “just sans is fine.” He meets the last human, a broad, bearded man. His warm hand envelopes Sans’ and he shakes it enthusiastically. “Miles O’Sullivan. Miles or Sully, whatever you like. We’re glad you’re here,” he says with the barest hint of an accent in his deep baritone. Sans smiles, nodding. He likes this fella too.

They all return to their seats. Asgore and the four take out briefcases, pulling folders of documents. Miles speaks up as he shuffles some papers around, “Now, we’d just like to ask you some questions about yourself. That sound alright?”

“’m all ears,” he says with a grin. Miles nods, smiling, and looks like he’s about to say something else when Sen. Moore cuts him off, with an abrupt wave of his hand.

His thin voice is abrasive to Sans, and he can already tell it gets worse from here. “How long have you been living here in town?”

“’bout a year and a half. since getting free,” he says as he musses up Frisk’s hair. They chuckle quietly.

Moore continues, uninterested. “Have you been an active and law-abiding citizen of our country?”

Sans rubs his jaw. “well, i’d say yes, but i don’t exactly have all the rights of a true citizen yet, now do i?” Moore’s eyes widen as they glare at him.

Miles huffs out a small laugh, muttering, “Got ya there.”

Moore just soldiers on, dogged in his attempt to trip Sans up. He’s not gonna get that chance. Moore folds his hands on top of his papers as he leans forward, gaunt face long and eager. “What are your qualifications for being here then?”

Sans just grins at him. He sees the cowardice in the man’s beady eyes. “i have two doctorates. and i think i’m a pretty friendly guy. just wanna help.” He doesn’t miss Dr. Thompson’s small smile and curious gaze at the mention of his degrees.

Moore starts grasping, saying dismissively, “Ah, well you should know they’re not recognized up here.” Sans’ magic rushes at the nerve and tone of this idiot.

“yet,” he responds, even-keeled and hopeful. “dr. alphys is a brilliant, accomplished, and recognized mechanical engineer at the local university. king asgore is helping me with mine.” Sans tilts his head. “and _tibia_ honest, it doesn’t mean i know any less.”

Dr. Thompson taps her pencil, saying, “Hear, hear.” She turns to Moore, skeptical brow raised, “Now, are you done giving him the third degree?”

Moore sits back in his chair, conceding for now. But the look he shoots Sans says he’s not nearly finished yet.

Sans sighs. He’s got his work cut out for him.

\------

“ARGH! They got me, Paps!” You fall facedown on the floor with your Spiderman action figure, tongue lolling out in mock-defeat. Papyrus sits up on his knees, posing heroically, his scarf flapping slightly.

“NO I SHALL SAVE YOU!” He tumbles to the ground, fighting the dastardly array of villains spread out on the floor. You cheer him on, hooting and hollering. “DEFEAT! NYEH!” He cups his hands around his mouth and whisper-shouts, “But I hope we can stay friends….” You laugh into your arms.

“Who wouldn’t want to? You’re so cool, Paps.” You beam at him.

His pupils practically sparkle in his dark sockets. “Nyeh heh! Cooler than Sans?”

You nod emphatically, “Oh yeah, way cooler. No contest.” He brings his fist down, yelling his victory. You pull out your phone and show him his contact information. “See, you’re ‘cool skelebro’ in my phone.” He cackles and spies Sans’ info, too. He winks loudly at you.

“OHO, I see Sans is ‘hot skelebro.’” You bark out a laugh and blush as you put your phone away. You fiddle with the Spiderman figure, twisting arms and legs this way and that, waiting for your cheeks to cool off.

“That was totally Sans,” you say, chuckling.

His high laughter joins yours before he throws you a kind smile. “It sounds like something either of you would do.” He plays with his own figurines. “I am glad you two are together,” he says cheerfully, as if he had no doubt it would happen.

“Me too,” you respond, genuine.

Papyrus grows quiet, his hands stilling their interest in the makeshift lives of heroes and villains, more interested in reality. More…fidgeting. He seems reluctant to meet your eyes, but when he does, your concern grows.

“___.... Has Sans told you the reason for his nightmares?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting time, BBs. 
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	36. Allies

Your mouth open and closes, caught in a loop, smack dab in the line of fire. You’ve never felt trapped so keenly before. “P-Paps….” He raises his hands, looking aghast and shocked at your reaction.

“Do not be upset, human! I am sorry, I did not mean to make you sad!” You take a deep breath and still his flailing hands with your own.

“Papyrus, I’m not upset, don’t worry,” you smile and he returns it, unsure. “He did. He insisted on it before I could even tell him how I felt about him.” You chuckle as you remember.

He speaks up, uncharacteristically serious, “I do not expect you to tell me. I want him to do that. I just…,” he looks away, “hope that he does.”

You squeeze his hands. “Paps. He will. He promised. He just doesn’t know when he should.” You look down at your joined hands. They’re so much like Sans’. Warm and cool and rough and smooth all at once. His are thinner, longer though. You smile. He could be a good piano player. Your face falls when you think about what Sans wants to do. But how lost he is in how he should go about doing it. “He’s afraid.”

“Why?” Papyrus asks innocently.

“He doesn’t want to lose you.”

“That is silly, human! Why would I ever get lost? I have an impeccable sense of direction.” Your responding giggle is soft, caressing the air that fluctuates between tense and casual.

“He doesn’t want to scare you, drive you away. He loves you so much, Paps.”

“Well, I love him too! He could not scare me if he tried, nyeh!” he replies, emphatic.

You laugh and fix his stare with yours, earnest and imploring. “Show him that, Papyrus. When he tells you, make sure he _knows_ that, without a doubt. He needs you.” Your forceful tone infects Papyrus, leaching seriousness and resolve into his white pupils. Lights that look so similar to Sans’. Brothers, through and through.

“I will.”

\-----------------

Sans listens to the ensuing talks. Toriel is taking the reins on this one, considering it has to do with education and integration into the current system. Once again, such a simple concept is being beaten and stretched into something much more unnecessarily complicated. At the head of the rabble is Moore, of course.

“Humans could still have their schools and monsters could have theirs. So long as education is provided, I don’t see why intermingling should happen,” he says, disdainfully. Asshat. Sans is almost done listening to this bullshit.

Asgore speaks up, voice rumbling out a warning, “I do not appreciate your tone, Senator.”

“Agreed,” Sully says, his own tone darkening at Moore's insolence.

Moore places his hands on the table, consternation across his face, “Look, I just –”

Sans can’t not say anything now, angry. But on the surface, his straight-faced calm overrides his disgust, as he interjects, “you look, bud. look at the other side. you’re right, education is paramount, but so long as everyone gets it, why does it matter whether monsters or humans are together? you’re diggin’ yourself a hole. i’d offer a shovel, but ya seem to be doin’ alright on your own.” Moore just sputters, red-faced. Toriel throws Sans a grateful glance. Frisk is just a kid, Tori can be too nice, and Asgore is too tactful. If no one else is gonna say it, maybe that’s what he’s here for.

“let’s look at this scientifically. the monster population is not gettin’ any smaller. unless you have spare millions lyin’ around to build ‘monster-only’ schools, integration is the most economically feasible option. that’s not to say anythin’ about ethics.”

Sen. Lee chimes in, “He has a point.” Dr. Thompson and Sully nod in agreement.

Sully mutters, “We’d have spare millions if they weren’t lining some people’s pockets….”

Moore whips his head around, hissing, “What was that O’Sullivan?”

Sully just shrugs, innocent look on his face, tapping his pen on the notepad. “Dunno. Someone’s sayin’ stuff maybe. Or you’re just hearing things.” He receives a glare in response. But a good mark and promise of closer inspection in Sans' book. He appreciates Sully's good-natured, genuine candor.

“I do worry about costs for expansion. Integration would stretch the limits of class and facility costs significantly,” Sen. Lee brings up.

Asgore says, “If the government continues to allow us to be sovereign to a degree – and it has so far – then we would gladly help in costs for expansion to schools if need be. We want what every citizen wants. Equal opportunities.”

Moore can’t help the filth that spills out now, demanding viciously, “But where will it end? Surely not just with education. Next will be voting. Citizenship? Marriage?” Distaste is clear in his voice. It ripples through Sans and the rest, cruel and unforgiving. His grin slips for the first time today.

And then a tiny voice asks, “Monsters can’t get married?” The innocence cuts Sans deep, forcing him to close his eyes briefly. Toriel leans down, a sad smile on her face.

She explains, “Monsters can to each other. But not to humans.” Frisk frowns, not quite understanding.

“But why?” Their tiny hand tugs on Sans’ sleeve now. “What if Sans and ___ wanted to get married?” Sans stiffens, his soul freezing over. He’s not sure what to even think or say now. He’d never really given it much thought. He doubts you have either.

Toriel’s eyes widen, sorrow and shock mixing together, meeting Sans’ own darkening sockets. Frisk looks between them, expecting an answer. He doesn’t know how to give it, nor does Tori. His pupils flick to the four sitting across the table. Surprise, and some pity, settles deep in their faces. But it’s Moore’s fucking face that he despises the most. Because not only is detestation rooted there, but also a hatred and, if Sans’ instincts are right, a wicked glee. He’s seen that conniving look before and he does _not_ like it. Sans is about to address Frisk, but a kind, deep voice sounds out.

It’s Sully.

“Frisk?” They turn their dark, expectant eyes to him. “That’s something that’s hard to answer. But it’s what we’re trying to accomplish by being here. So Sans and his loved one can, should they ever want to.” Frisk just stares, thinking and assessing Sully. Sans does the same. His auburn-bearded face is open and honest, green eyes sincere. Sans shoves his hands into his pockets, though. His fists creak. His mind races, glad to be able to find an ally in Sully, but ultimately apprehensive of their knowledge of his relationship with you. Not that he wants it secret; on the contrary, if he’s ever been proud of anything – besides his brother – it’s his bond with you. But he doesn’t want it public to people in power. People who could so easily cause trouble for you, or…take you away. People like Moore, who he doesn’t trust as far as he could throw him. Without magic, that is. Boy, he wishes he could throw him out of this room. And preferably into traffic.

Dr. Thompson clears her voice and says, “Well, I think we should call it for this meeting. Some good issues were brought up that we will address again at the next in the coming weeks.” Everyone nods and starts packing up their papers and things. They stand and shake hands. Sans reluctantly shakes hands with Moore. When he starts to leave, the thin man follows him out into the hall. He falls into step a bit too closely for Sans’ comfort.

“So, you have a significant other?” Moore asks. He’s not really asking though. He’s confirming. Sans grunts, giving nothing. “Do they know the risks of you being here?” The ice over his soul returns and thickens, along with a fierce anger. He stops and shoots a hard stare at Moore’s face.

“and if they did?”

Moore’s hands raise in mock defense and insultingly insincere concern. “I only hope they’re careful. It would be a shame if anything happened. Casualties in the crossfire and all. We don’t want another Civil Rights Movement on our hands.”

Protectiveness and fury surge through Sans, and it takes everything he has to keep his temper and magic under control. A wide, unfeeling grin fractures his features. “i’d be careful of what ya say, senator. there’re cameras everywhere.” Moore’s eyes flick about. How stupid could he possibly be? “‘cause it kinda sounded like a threat. heh…could mean a bad time.”

Sans doesn’t wait for a reply, stalking after Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk. Toriel looks at his grim face as he matches pace. “Did the Senator say something to you, Sans?”

“more or less. the threat was clear.”

Alarm cross both her and Asgore’s face as they look at each other. “Surely he would not try anything?” Toriel asks him, worried.

“I do not think so. Regardless, we will not let anything happen,” Asgore reassures. Sans nods, not entirely believing him or really even paying attention at this point. All he can think about is you.

Until Frisk yells, “CONSTANT VILIGENCE!”

They all start and look down at Frisk’s smiling face. Sans bursts into rolling laughter, ruffling their hair. “i think it’s vigilance, kiddo. but you’re right.”

Frisk grins up at him and holds his hand tightly. Excitement shoots into their features and they start jumping up and down. They point to his sockets and shout, “Mad-Eye! _You’re_ Mad-Eye Moody!” They frantically gesture to his and their face, back and forth. They talk fast, “’Cause, ‘cause, ‘cause you got a mad eye and you can be moody!” Sans doubles over in the hall, his deep laugh echoing and bouncing off the marble walls. Asgore and Toriel join him and once he recovers, he picks Frisk up to place them on his shoulders.

“ya got it. constant vigilance.”

\-----------

Sans waves at Toriel and Asgore, laughing as Frisk flops out the window to wave back. He watches them drive off. The tension leaves his bones and he breathes a weighty sigh of relief. He can finally relax; somewhat at least. He rubs his neck and teleports inside the house. It’s quiet. He peeks into the living room, seeing no one either there or in the kitchen. He makes his way to the back of the house, to Papyrus’ room. A pair of sawing snores emanate from within. He peers around the doorframe to see a sight that twists his soul with a sweet, warm pain. He could hardly call it painful at all, but the force of it is enough to steal the imagined breath from his breathless body. You’re both lying on the floor, Papyrus’ action figures strewn about in the aftermath of a particularly good battle. You’re lying head-to-head, yours pillowing on the red scarf that is consistently at home around his brother’s neck.

He crosses the room and crouches next to you. His hand drifts over your cheek, brushing the hair back from your face. Fondness and love thaw the ice that had been encroaching in his soul, a heat that warms his bones. First meeting is done and over for now. Nothing has happened, despite whatever Moore said. You’re here and safe. His phalanges skirt your jaw and you shift, yawning. Your wonderful eyes open, tired and groggy. But they widen and brighten as they skim over his face. You sit up quickly, taking hold of his hand and grasping his knee with an excited anticipation.

“Sans,” you say, voice rough from sleep.

“hey,” he responds, hand combing through your hair.

“How was it? Tell me all the things,” you whisper, trying to avoid waking Papyrus up.

“let’s get him up too and i can tell both of ya,” he responds. He stands, pulling you up with him. As soon as you straighten your crooked clothes, Sans tugs you into a close embrace, breathing you in deep. His mouth presses to your neck, a long and slow kiss. You chuckle, soul pulsing at the proximity. Arms tighten and then release.

You place a soft kiss to his mouth and say, “Go get changed. I’ll wake Paps up. I know you wanna get out of them clothes as fast as possible.” You know just what to say, because he delights in the thought of donning his hoodie. He hugs you again, all but sprinting to get rid of the lackey costume. You bend down and shake Papyrus’ shoulder. He grumbles and opens his sockets, looking up at you, confused. You smile.

“Sans is home.”

He scrambles to his feet with a delighted smile, taking your hand as he heads out to the living room. “WELCOME BACK BROTHER!” Sans steps out of his room, all gym shorts and slippers, zipping up his hoodie with a satisfied grin. He looks much more comfortable now. That same satisfaction shoots through you when you catch a glimpse of the shirt you gave him underneath. He follows you out to the couch and you both flank him. You cross your legs, folding them under you as you face him. Your elbow rests on the top of the cushion to prop up your head, waiting for Sans to speak. He slouches down, snuggling into the cushions and his hoodie.

“Did everything go well?” Papyrus asks.

“hmm, not too shabby. there were some tense moments though.”

“Tense?” you ask now.

He nods. “yeah. there were four people. three were alright, the last is a goddamn ass.” A hand rubs over his skull. “he’s gonna give us the most grief by far,” he growls.

You continue, “Did he give _you_ grief?”

“he tried,” he says, self-assured, but flashing you an exasperated and cautious look. You’re sure he’s gonna have a lot more to say later.

Papyrus crosses his arms, grinning. “Well I am very proud of you, brother!”

“heh, thanks, paps.”

You sit, listening as he and Papyrus talk, asking your own questions when you find some. His hand slips into yours, fingers massaging yours as if they could meld together with his. Your grip strengthens at the thought of telling him what Papyrus said earlier. A recipe for instant anxiety if there ever was one. You could just not tell him, you muse, the errant thought drifting unwanted through your mind. Your soul shies away from that, the idea is even less appealing. You’re not going to lie to him, and like hell you’re gonna start now. Not ever, you hope. You both promised. His hand hesitates for a moment and you notice him search for the rest of his thought, like he just lost it mid-sentence. Like he got distracted. He glances over to you with a question in his eyes. You smile quickly. A brow raises, but he goes back to his train of thought. You’re not going to have any chance when he touches your soul. The idea is so amazingly foreign, but damn is it exciting. Hopefully he can keep cool with the flood of emotions that constantly flow through you, like right now. You don’t pull any punches either, so he better get used to it. You’re taken back by the strength of your conviction, feeling like your chest is being subsumed, consumed. An absent smile lifts your lips.

“babe?”

Your head shoots up to meet Sans’ confused, but incredibly interested gaze. “Huh?”

“you alright?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m ok,” you say, laughing.

He chuckles, still searching your face as he hums in unconvinced acknowledgement. Papyrus yawns in the meantime, breaking Sans’ penetrating gaze. “tired, bro?” Papyrus nods as he stretches. Sans turns back to you. “wanna sing for us tonight?” He’s hopeful and he feels his pupils gleam in response. If anything will help him relax after today, it’s that.

“Sure,” you say, smiling.

Papyrus claps and races to his room. You and Sans follow, hand-in-hand, watching Papyrus straighten up and get ready for bed. All three of you settle down and you begin singing low and sweet, no preamble needed.

“Sleep little baby, sleep ‘til the morning comes.

Momma will keep you from all harm.

Sleep little baby, under the western sky.

I’ll sing you a desert lullaby.”

Sans sits, eyes closed, listening. Letting your smoky voice wash over him, take away his worries, his fears, his anxieties. It untethers him. Outside this room, nothing matters. Not the threats, the meetings, his work or yours. Here are the people that mean the most to him. He’ll do anything to keep you both safe. But for now, he’s content. Content to just…be. Forget for a time; just until he steps out of this room, and then all things will be remembered. But armed with the strength to combat it, with you and Papyrus. A wistful smile lifts a corner of his mouth. Is this what it’s like to trust explicitly?

 “Dream little baby, dream of the valley green.

Far o’er the mountains, by the sea.

Dream little baby, one day no more you’ll roam.

Then you’ll awake and find a home.”

You continue to sing, repeating the first verse before slowing, growing softer. You look at both skeleton brothers. Papyrus is asleep and Sans seems like he’s well on his way. Your humming deepens along with the fondness and love you feel towards them. They mean so much to you, and every day that feeling only grows stronger. You reach over and slip your hand into Sans’ pocket to hold his. He opens his sockets, a rare, serene grin stretching his face. You look at each other, memorizing, cataloguing, and storing this intimate moment for the future, shoulder either of you tire. You stand and kiss his skull, then Papyrus’. He follows you, closing the door behind him with a solid click.

When he pulls you back into his room, he draws you close, hand resting on your chest, right over your heart. “wow, you were distracting,” he says, chuckling, voice astounded. You laugh, placing a hand over his.

“I’m sorry.”

“no…no, it’s alright. just…such a different feeling. i like it,” he admits, fervent. “what in the world was rattlin’ your bones? and mine?”

Your hand slides down, rubbing the long, thick bones of his forearm. You feel him shiver. “Dunno. Just glad everything went ok, and you’re back.”

“me too.” His hand presses to your chest a bit harder. “but that’s not all, is it?”

He must be asking about what made you anxious earlier. “Well, when me and Paps were hanging out…he asked me something.” You meet his concerned stare. You brace yourself. “He asked if you’d told me about your nightmares.”

His sockets darken and his jaw goes slack, as well as his hold on you. He stammers, breathing out, “w-what did you say?”

“I just said you had. Nothing more, don’t worry.” He nods, so unsure and scared it registers as blank on his face, dragging him down into himself forcefully. Your hands lay over his cheekbones, pulling him back up from the murky depths of his fear and memories. “He just hopes you’ll tell him. Gotta say, he’s adamant you can’t do anything to scare him away.” You smile, trying to coax him out with light-heartedness. It doesn’t work as well as you’d hoped. His sockets are still dark and he’s becoming increasingly rigid. “Babe,” you say, more determined now. “Sans, he _loves_ you. Like you love him. He’s not gonna let anything come between you.”

“how do you know?” he asks listlessly.

“Because I do. Pretty sure you would feel if I had any doubt.” His pupils come back, faint, glancing at you. “He knows you. He’s known you and loved you far longer than I have. Looking at you two, nothing could tear that apart.” Miniscule cyan tears find their way down his face and you wipe them away tenderly. He hugs you close, nuzzling his face into your hair. “I told him you would. But that you just have to find the right time. No deadline. Just a promise.”

“i hate promises,” he mutters dejectedly. You chuckle and turn your head to place soft kisses on his neck.

“I know. But, they’re promises for a reason. Because we want them to happen, no matter what.” You pull back and kiss his mouth now. “We can worry and talk about it later. You looked like you had more to say about the meeting,” you say, steering him away from something he doesn’t know how to address. Not yet at least. He exhales heavily and nods, pushing those thoughts away from him fiercely. He can’t worry about that yet. He has time, he repeats to himself.

“it’s…it’s just amazing how some people get into positions of power.” Sans releases you and throws up his hands, on a tirade now, focusing his distress elsewhere. “this guy, _senator_ moore,” he hisses disdainfully, mocking,” is _the_ worst. racist as all hell. he’s a _senator_ for fuck’s sake.” It’s people like him who are the reason they were trapped down in the Underground in the first place. _That_ pisses him off.

You cross your arms, upset for him. But you’re not surprised. It’s not like corruption in the government is news to you. He breaks his pacing, turning a somber look at you. You’re immediately on edge, because you feel waves of worry roll off him. “they know about us now.”

You huff, amused, “Well that was fast.” Sans doesn’t share it with you. That is worrisome, but not to the degree to which it’s bothering Sans you think. “But we knew they were going to know, right?”

He shrugs, sighing. “yeah, but it’s moore knowing that i don’t like.”

Your brow raises. _That_ makes you think, beginning to connect some dots. “What did he say?”

Sans grinds his jaw, furious expression crossing his face. “said it’d be a shame if something were to happen to you.”

Your jaw drops. “He _said_ that?” Sans nods. “Is he like…a movie villain or some shit? How fucking stupid is he?” you demand, flabbergasted. You recover and force out a laugh. “I’d like to see him try anything.”

“i wouldn’t,” Sans mutters, sidelong gaze fixed at you.

You lose your bravado, feeling chided as it and your fire evaporate. “Well…obviously. But, he wouldn’t dare, right?”

“i dunno, babe. i really don’t. i don’t wanna take any chances though.” He moves back over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Me either,” you whisper against his skull. “We’re not gonna let anything happen.” He doesn’t say anything, just nodding absently. Your lips graze his skull and you pull back, separating as you change into more comfortable clothes too. “How did all that come up anyway?” you ask as you tug on your sweats, mind wandering gratefully to less pressing and troubling matters.

You hear his weak laugh sound out behind you. “frisk asked why humans and monsters can’t marry. asked why we couldn’t, if we ever…wanted…to…,” he peters out. You glance at him at that, eyes wide, brows and interest raised sky-high. He holds up his hands quickly, backpedaling. “ _if_ it ever came up, that is! n-not saying it is or will or won’t or…whatever.” He throws up a feeble, abashed smile, completely and utterly lost in how he should navigate this. _Fucking smooth_ , he thinks, kicking himself.

You burst into laughter, his tripping over his words too funny to ignore. “Relax, babe. That is _not_ something we have to or even should think about right now, don’t worry.” You chuckle, seeing him relax a bit. “Frisk _would_ bring that up.” He laughs haltingly. “Were you this suave when you answered?” you tease, winking.

“nah, ‘cause i wasn’t the one who answered.” You push your hair from your face, question clear in your eyes. “it was this guy, sully.”

“Sully?”

“yeah, name’s miles o’sullivan.”

“Sully,” you say, rolling the name around your mouth. You'll have to research and see what this guy is all about. “What a nickname. Makin’ friends like that already?” You step close and poke his sternum with a loving smirk. “You _are_ charming. Who woulda thought?”

He laughs deeply, pushing you onto the bed and pulling your pants off in one fell swoop. “i can charm the pants off _you_ , can’t i?” You wheeze in laughter. You grab his hoodie and force him down to your level.

“Not fair, I call shenanigans,” you say before kissing him hard. He just laughs against your lips as he crawls on top of you. His mouth migrates to your neck and you hum. You’d definitely missed him. “Think we can trust this Sully guy?” you ask. Your soft voice seems to disturb the rapidly darkening room, the only other sounds being Sans shifting aside fabrics and your blending sighs.

His hand comes up to your face, thumb stroking your jaw as he looks into your eyes. “seems like he’s on our side. i get a good feelin’ from him.”

Your hand mirrors his. “Just glad you have an ally in there. That we all do.”

“me too.”

They need all the help they can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go. You're all great. I smooch you all.
> 
> Tmblrrrr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	37. Break It For Science

“Will it ever end?”

Your pitiful moan is muffled by the books that are currently part of your face.

“huh?” you hear Sans call from your kitchen.

Your forehead peels away from the horrible pages and you say again, “Will it ever end?” He meets your forlorn stare and chuckles as he fills the mugs. He walks back into the living room where you’re sitting on the floor, your research and piles upon piles of books and articles lay haphazard and scattered on the table. Much like your thoughts.

He hands you your coffee and kisses you on the top of your head, saying, “nope.”

You frown, sipping. “That’s comforting.” The coffee at least makes up for the distinct lack of reassurance.

He laughs again as he sits on the couch. “don’t worry. you’ll get it done. you’ve finished how many?”

“Two.”

“and how many more ya got?”

“Just one,” you sigh.

“see? almost done.” He leans back, hands behind his skull, and closes his sockets. Bah, he’s right. You’re nearly there. This is the home-stretch. You have about another week before it’s due. Plenty of time if you don’t slack off. But…maybe one more break wouldn’t hurt. You lean back and hook your arm over his bony knee, getting his attention.

“Wanna do that tour of campus tonight?”

He laughs, smirking at you. “didn’t ya just say ya had stuff to do?”

You gasp. “Sans not supporting breaks? Is this the apocalypse?” You throw your arm over your eyes as you slide down onto the floor, yelling, “Watch out, momma, I’m comin’ home!”

You hear his loud, rumbling laughter above you. You peek over your arm, meeting his wide grin and amused eye-lights. He flips your hair over your face and says, “yeah, yeah, drama queen. sounds fun to me.” You chuckle and give him a thumbs up from your place on the floor.

“You call Paps and I’ll call Alphys and Undyne.”

“ya got it, babe.”

\-------------

You shiver in your hoodie, tucking your face into your scarf. You have your bomber jacket over it, but you’re still cold. The chill descended fast this year. You can only imagine how much colder December and January will be when they roll on by. There will definitely be snow, but that doesn’t bother you really. You’ve always kind of loved it. Especially when it’s newly fallen. It’s always so pristine and beautiful to you; the way the sun reflects off of it in purple, gold, and blue hues, creating new dimensions for your eyes to explore in, to be caught and content in your capture. The willing fly in this web. Not to mention it shares that crisp scent you love so much, now that you associate it with Sans. You stand with your two favorite skeletons on the quad in front of the library. The long green slopes, laced with walkways and dotted with tall sycamores, oaks, and pines, shatter the brick-faced buildings that tower throughout campus. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of seeing it, especially in this light. The fading afternoon sun cuts across the parapets, covering parts of the campus in shadow, the other parts in a pinkish-blue haze. Besides the small chirps of birds, the only other sound is the thumping of Papyrus’ boots in the grass and his ensuing cackles as he runs around. You look over to Sans.

He looks content. Scoping the area out as much as you are; calm, but keenly interested if his gleaming pupils are any indication. He turns his attention to his brother. While he’s distracted you pull out your phone and make of show of thumbing through it. You back away a bit and make sure to get both of them in the frame and… _click_. You assess it, smiling softly. It’s perfect. A strong shout makes all three of you turn your heads.

“NERDS!!”

You laugh, seeing Undyne sprint across the green, Alphys in tow. She scoops up Papyrus in a big hug, then Sans, then you. You wheeze from laughter, air escaping your lungs from the fierce hug. You return it with as much strength as you can muster. When she lets you go, you turn and embrace Alphys.

“Hey Alphys, how’s it going?”

“Good! This w-was a real great idea!” Her thick, yellow tail twitches along the ground. Sans comes up next to you, smiling wide at his partner in science. She says, “I’m s-super happy you d-decided to get your degrees recognized, Sans.”

“me too, alph. ‘s been too long.”

She elbows him, shedding that nervous skin for, what seems to you, the first time since meeting her. “Am I g-gonna have to teach you the ropes again?”

He chuckles, eyes bright. “in your dreams. just you wait, i still got it. i’ll be takin’ ya to school in no time.” You follow them as they walk towards the science side of campus. Alphys and him chatter about what facilities they have and the technology and equipment available; what sorts of experiments and projects they’ve been working on or accomplishing. You’d never seen either of them this animated. Science really is the other love in their lives. Probably their first love, which always seems to stick with you no matter what. You don’t have many questions, much of it going above your head. You don’t feel out of place though. You’re witness to something you always wished you would see. Seeing Alphys and Sans both coming out of their respective shells and truly relaxing. You’re content to just watch and listen, enjoying the company, the weather, and the drifting conversations around you. Sans notices your silence and slips his hand into yours, glancing over to make sure you’re good. You flash him a happy smile and wink. Appeased, he picks his conversation with Alphys back up. You look back over your shoulder and see Papyrus and Undyne running down the sidewalks, hopping up on ledges and over hedges as they chase after each other. She sticks out her tongue at him, goading him on as she avoids his clutches as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“HUMAN!” he pleads. “HELP ME CATCH UNDYNE AND I WILL GIVE YOU SO MUCH SPAGHETTI!”

You burst into laughter. You don’t know how much good you’ll do, they’re much more agile and active than you are. But you’ll try. Alphys shoots you a sympathetic look, while Sans is more cautionary.

“be careful,” he says, half-chuckling. You kiss his skull quickly and wrap your scarf around his neck. Full-blown chuckles spill out as he watches you run off after them, determined.

“They are s-so…not you,” Alphys teases.

_Ah, there she is_ , he thinks as he laughs. “i think that’s why i like ‘em so much.” He smiles over at her. “it’s kinda like you and undyne.” She sputters now, yellows scales turning red.

Once she regains some modicum of composure, she straightens her glasses and asks, dreamy quality taking over her nasally voice. “Have you guys confessed your feelings?”

He scratches his skull, muttering, “yep.” His own blush colors his cheekbones now. It’s Alphys’ turn to clap and squeal in excitement.

“I knew it! Who said it f-first? I have a bet with Undyne!”

“they did,” Sans says, laughing and remembering fondly as he nuzzles your scarf. It all turned out better than expected. And he’s so much better and happier for it. But she lets out a loud, defeated groan.

“You let me down, Sans! I was p-pulling for you.” He bursts into laughter, not sure which is funnier: that he let her down, or that Undyne has no faith in his abilities to step up to the plate. Which…he guesses is kinda true, he’ll give her that.

“sorry, alph. you know i ain’t got any guts though.”

“But you’re m-my partner in mad-sciencing. Couldn’t very well leave you high and d-dry.”

He throws an arm around her shoulders, laughing. “aww, alph. ya make me feel like more than just a wet blanket.” She giggles as she rolls her eyes. They eventually sit on a cold bench to watch Undyne evade you and Papyrus. He sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets and buries his chin in your scarf. Smells like you. Coffee and woodsmoke.

“W-what are you gonna do once you get your degrees?”

Sans waits for a moment, thinking. He’s not sure. He hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, you and the meetings taking up the majority of his time and attention. If he finishes up with the meetings soon after getting his degrees back, maybe…maybe he could work with Alphys. Like old times. While an easy job, he holds no particular fondness for the stand in the park. He was different back then. He wants to move forward, with you and his brother. He wants to try.

“dunno. would be cool to be a lab-rat again.”

Alphys nods, enthusiastic. “Maybe you could even w-work with me!” Sans shares her delight, even if he doesn’t show it as vigorously. “But that would be after the m-meetings right?” He nods. “How a-are they g-going?” she asks, more nervous now.

“only had one so far. it…coulda been worse i guess.”

“Are they n-nice p-p-people?”

“three are. one isn’t.” Sans pauses, looking at you. It’s obvious you’re tired, finding it hard to keep up with the endurance of the others. But you keep going, all with this wonderful, carefree grin on your face. “he’s gotta bone to pick with all of us.”

“He’s n-n-not g-gonna do anything, r-right?” she asks. She rights her glasses with a shaking clawed paw. Sans throws her a kind smile, just to calm her down. She doesn’t need to know the extent of the threat Moore poses. Not now, anyway. If Sans is going to make sure of anything, it’s that everyone stays out of it. The ire should be directed at him. Not you, not Papyrus, not his friends.

“doubt it. he’s spineless. and stupid.” Alphys calms down and watches the chase with him.

Your heart is pounding and you’re so far from being cold anymore, you would swear you were in Hell. But sake’s alive is it fun. Papyrus has Undyne backed up against a higher wall, confident grin on his face. She reflects it right back, dagger-like teeth glinting in the fading light. She has all of her attention on Papyrus, not worried about small fry like yourself. Just fine with you, you reason as you crouch and creep around to the bushes lining the wall behind her. Like a cat after a fish, you move steadily closer, keeping your eyes trained on her back. When you’ve got her right where you want her, you step and leap of the ledge and onto her back with a ringing, “HYAAAAGH!” She whips around, eyes wide and then you’re on top of her, clinging desperately to her slick, scaled arms. Papyrus jumps up and you raise a fist as well, crowing your victory.

Sans is surprised when he finds himself leaning forward. He exhales hard, that almost pounding feeling back in his chest. Somehow his, but not entirely. He has the opportunity, might as well.

“hey alph,” he says.

“Yeah?” she asks, turning her horned head to look at him curiously through her glasses.

“know much about human souls?”

“W-well, sort of,” she says nervously, claws picking at her sweater.

“know what happens when a monster touches ‘em?” he asks, still staring at you, relaxed on the outside. But inside he’s on edge with interest and excitement and he’s not sure whether it’s your soul or his.

“U-um, I d-don’t know. You would k-know more than me, r-right?” she sputters, blushing.

He glances at her, grinning. “nope. pretty much a bonehead when it comes to that.” He does wish he knew more about it. But…it has to wait.

Her mouth opens in shock. “Y-you guys h-haven’t…?” He shakes his head. “B-b-but I thought you both s-said you love each other?” She’s dumbfounded and he admits that, considering the two seem to go hand-in-hand to monsters, it would be weird to hear otherwise.

“we do. but…we decided to wait.”

“Why?” she asks, her curiosity overtaking the surprise in a landslide.

“time, reassurance, you name it.” He chuckles, a bit bittersweet. “gotta say, my need for conclusive results is hampered by unknown variables.”

Her expression turns more serious with concern. “D-did something happen?”

He looks away, trying to banish that hot feeling of shame away. “almost.” She waits, the silence patient. “it’s like…my magic took over? dunno, can barely even remember it happening.” He trails off, focusing on you again.

“Hmm,” she intones, pushing up her glasses as she thinks. Sans can almost hear her work through every possibility; mechanical and methodical as much as the machines she invents. He enjoys seeing her at work, truly in her element. Never more confident than when she’s solving something. “So you can’t remember much. What did it f-feel like?”

He shrugs. “like a haze i guess. it was just…me and them, ya know? eh,” he huffs in frustration, scraping a hand over his skull, “what a lousy explanation.”

“N-no,” she smiles at him. “I g-get it. Sounds like your m-magic took advantage. Normal. Magic is old, has a m-mind of its own. I suppose it knew what you wanted, they were there, and willing as well, so…it j-just took the step itself.”

He guessed as much. But it does help to hear that it’s normal, at least from someone knowledgeable and not himself. He’s quiet when he says, “they were scared.”

Something resembling understanding and sympathy settles in her scaled face. “I can imagine it might be s-strange. Especially to a human.” He nods again, agreeing. Another thought crosses his mind though.

“will they hear my soul too?” His hand itches to stray to his sternum.

“I…d-don’t know? I o-only know u-u-um when it c-comes to monsters…,” she stammers, blush returning full force. He laughs and pats her back, leaving her be to cool down. She clears her throat and smiles at him. “B-but I think y-you might. That’d be c-cool! You’ll have to let me know!” she says, enthusiasm taking over before her cheeks redden again. “Uh, f-f-for s-science, that is!” She throws up her hands.

He laughs again, seeing Papyrus, Undyne, and you, piggy-back riding on her back, walking back over. “don’t worry, alph. for science.”

“You have a keeper, lazybones!” Undyne shouts as she strolls over. You chuckle as you slide off her back and onto shaky legs. You shrug off your bomber jacket, folding it in your arms in front of you as you plop down next to Sans. You rest your head on his shoulder breathing hard.

He laughs, his arm coming up to rub your back. “yeah i guess i’ll keep ‘em.” You retaliate by pulling his hood over his head.

Alphys looks up at Undyne as she grabs her hand. “You won.” Undyne’s blue brow scrunches together in confusion before following the line Alphys’ eyes are taking.

“HELL YEAH!” She reaches over and slaps you on the back. You let out a groan and stretch, shooting her a confused look. “Knew ya could do it!”

“Do…what exactly?” you ask, lost.

“Apparently you have more of a spine than bonehead does!” she guffaws.

You look over to Sans, still trying to figure things out. He just smiles and shrugs. “Well…I mean, I do, but that’s only because I’m taller,” you say cheekily, winking at him. He barks out a laugh, throwing your jacket in your face.

“ _You_ confessed your undying love _first_!” she yells, ecstatic.

“Oh!” you say, everything falling into place. You smile wide, thankful your small blush is hidden behind your already-flushed cheeks from exercise. You lean close to Sans, head-butting him softly, soul beating strongly within you. “Yeah, I did.” He shares your grin, your soul reflecting in his.

“i was hot on your heels though,” he whispers to you.

“You’re hot alright,” you murmur back, kissing his skull quickly before you all stand up and start making your way back to the main quad. You pull out your phone and bring up the picture you took earlier, showing it to Papyrus and Sans. “Candid shot,” you say fondly.

“I love it! Could you send it to me, human?” You laugh and nod, texting him. Sans smiles, but it’s tinged with a knowing wickedness. He pulls out his own phone and shows you one picture. Your eyes widen in horror. It’s you, mouth wide open, drooling, probably snoring, oh god it’s the worst. You lunge for his phone, but he moves it out of reach.

“Delete it!” you yell.

He grins. “now why would i do somethin’ like that?”

“Because you love me,” you say. You make another grab, but this time he’s not there at all. You turn about wildly, searching desperately for where that sneaky skeleton went.

“I believe he is up ahead,” Papyrus points out, grinning as wide as his good-for-nothing brother. Sans is slouching and waving to you, phone still in his hand.

“Thanks, Paps,” you say, before sprinting off after Sans. You still hear his cackling as Sans slips in and out of your grip, laughing, for the remainder of the way back to the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I apologize. This is so freaking late. Blah, I hate when that happens. My summer classes will be done this week (thank cheezus) so regular updates will resume on Thursday! Thanks for all the patience. You all rock.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	38. Under Scrutiny

Sans’ soft snoring accompanies your thoughts as you lay awake in hours that no sane person should be awake for. Your mind flits about, but it’s not for what you would expect. It would be perfectly understandable to be awake for things concerning your paper. But no. All you can think about is Sans’ meeting. You’ve always been one to make the unknown known. You need to know what he’s up against. What you all are. You slide out of his bed as soft as you can, looking back at the sleeping skeleton sprawled across the other side. Your fingers brush over his skull and you think you hear him respond, a low contented noise rising out of him. It makes you smile and your soul pulse. You grab your computer and headphones and quietly leave his room, shutting the door behind you before settling down on the couch. The glow from your computer blinds you, but your eyes adjust quickly, used to this as if you do it every night. And you practically do.

Time to get to work.

Dr. Evelyn Thompson. Senator Amy Lee. Senator Robert Moore. Tabs upon tabs for each. Nothing so far that surprises you. All went to Ivy League schools, organizations, fraternities, sororities, tops of their classes…except for Moore. Seems, like with most politicians, he got where he is through money and connections. You frown. He’s the one that threatened you, in not so many words. You’re not going to give him any chance. And like _hell_ is he going to hurt anyone you love. You want him gunning for you before anyone else. Though you’re sure Sans will have something to say about that. Your purse your lips. Probably a lot more than just something. You’re so engrossed in your research that you don’t notice that same skeleton step out of his room.

Sans enters the living room, rubbing his sockets, groggy and sleepy. He wonders what you’re doing up. You finally look up, a little surprised to see him awake. Usually he’s out like a light. He cracks a tired smile at you as he pops a headphone out of your ear. He bends and asks, “what ya doin’ up?” before kissing your temple.

You smile and say, “Reconnaissance.”

“well, i spy, with my eye, a boneless beauty and you-less bed.” You snicker, kissing him. He returns it, growling low in his throat and waves his hand. “scoot up.” You do and he settles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, bringing you flush against his chest. You both sigh, enjoying the closeness. He looks over your shoulder, pressing his teeth to your skin as he reads the tabs.

“found anything?”

“Nothing really of note. Cursory glances mostly. Looked up Thompson, Lee, and just finishing reading up on Moore. Fucking toolbag. Skates by on money and connections.”

His contempt is clear and you swear you feel him darken. A shadow grows over your own soul. “not surprising.”

“It’s obvious he has a power complex. I just…don’t want him to try and prove it. Especially to you,” you whisper, almost hoping he doesn’t hear you say that last part. He does.

“’m not worried about me.” His hands tighten around your waist, emphasizing his point.

“Well I am,” you say, a touch indignant as your protective side rears its head.

He sighs and is silent a moment before saying, “i know, babe.”

“Sorry. I just…don’t want to lose you…,” you trail off, trying to forget the memories of your nightmare that threaten to overtake you.

“you won’t. heh, i love ya too much,” he says, and you can feel him smile against your throat, though it’s a weak attempt.

Your hand comes up to discreetly rub your eye. Probably dust or a twig. Maybe a branch. In this treeless living room. You clear your throat and murmur low, to avoid the tremor in your voice, “A team.”

He wipes underneath your other eye. Dammit. But he says nothing of it, and it makes you love him even more. “a team,” he repeats. His hand drops to join his other one around your midsection. “so what ya got on sully? anything juicy?”

“Let’s see…,” you say as your fingers fly over the keys. You frown, typing more, the clicks loud and foreboding in the dark room. Sans shifts and tenses up behind you.

“anything?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Nothing. There’s…nothing.”  

“that’s…unsettling.”

“Yeah. Considering you can always find something about someone. Social media, at the very least.”

He hugs you even tighter to him. “i’ll see what i can find out.”

“At least we know shit about Moore. I don’t know if I should be more worried about Sully now,” you say with a hefty sigh. Until you find _something_ out about Sully, this won’t stop weighing on your mind, you’re sure. “You said he seemed like a good guy?” you ask, turning your head to him. You see his eyes move back and forth, reading the screen. Though dimmer, it’s hard to tell whether they’re lit by the screen, or from his own interest. He frowns.

“seemed like it. he sure seems to dislike moore. which is almost enough for me.” You’re silent as you listen. “but…i didn’t get the sense he’s…bad, ya know?”

“From what you said, he seems to care at least. Maybe that’s enough? I dunno,” you offer, defeated.  

“i’d still rather know more. don’t like unknown variables,” he huffs, frustration clear in his deep voice. His sentiments only grow within you. Maybe it’s because you’re tired, but all you can think about, all your mind will let in, are these meetings and what could possibly happen. What it means to not know who these players are and what kind of threat or aid they could pose or offer. You just want to know, dammit. You’re lost in the fluorescent haze, in that impenetrable nowhere between here and somewhere else. You almost don’t notice the grip you have on Sans’ arm and hand.

“babe?” he asks, concerned. You rouse yourself, a small smile making a brief appearance.

“Sorry, was just lost in thought,” you reassure him. And yourself, to a point.

He’s quiet a moment. Listening. He catches this almost frantic pounding, but he knows it’s not your heart. It’s deeper. Thicker, a waking giant. It extends out and to such a depth he can barely even register. But it’s there. It calls to him unlike anything physically ever could. He kisses your throat tenderly. “whatever comes our way, we’ll meet it together, like ya said.”

“Together,” you repeat. You extricate his right hand with your own, placing it on your chest, right in the center. His breath catches and just the proximity of him and his hand is enough to stimulate that living warmth inside you. You feel his bones thrum in response. You roll your head to rest it on his skull. He knows what you’re asking without even saying. He wants it too.

“don’t worry. i won’t touch it.”

You nod, saying, “I trust you.”

The humming reaches into your being, wrapping its heated tendrils around you, lifting _you_ up and out. That silvery golden mist drifts out, swirling, swept along by his magic. A magic that yearns, but loves. Fights, but protects. It promises to do all these things and more for you. You feel its earnest cry as your soul coalesces into that brilliant green crystal. Sans brings up your hands, cupping them, cupping your soul. You’ve never felt the need for him to touch it so acutely before now, what could it hurt, just one finger, that’s all…

Light shimmers and sparks along the surface, beckoning. Sans’ hands clench around yours. He chuckles weakly, “makin’ this a little hard, babe.”

You blink and take a few deep breaths, happy to see your soul is calming as well, the green no longer roiling expectant beneath the faceted surface. “Sorry, sorry. It…I…just wanted you,” you stammer. He laughs again, holding you close.

“don’t blame ya. i’d want me too.” You start wheezing in your laughter. The green in your soul glitters and flashes in time. It thrusts brilliant, shifting auroras onto the walls. You and Sans let out simultaneous gasps as you watch. “but really…i want you too,” he mutters, entranced. You sit together in silence, just staring. Sharing this incredibly intimate space. A space you know you’ll only ever share with Sans. His voice is gruff when he says, “you might be happy to know that what happened before was normal.”

“That morning?” He nods.

“magic is…old. really old. kinda has a mind of its own. it wanted you, could tell you wanted me, and…well, tried to reconcile the difference.” You listen, enraptured and fascinated. A wave of silver travels over your soul and the walls.

“How’d you find out?”

“alph,” he says, thumbs rubbing over your skin.

It must have rattled him more than he let on for him to go to someone about it. The green darkens as you think. “Was she surprised? Like does this happen often?”

He settles his face into your hair and the lights immediately brighten, like the sun filtering through the trees. You smile. “more surprised that it hadn’t happened yet.”

Your smile dips as it turns into a frown, confusion trickling through you and into your soul. It starts boiling again, questioning. You get right to the point. ““How long do monsters wait to touch souls?” You’re not sure why yet, but your need to know starts building.

He huffs, fluffing up your hair, expecting that question to come up at some point. It honestly doesn’t need to come up at all. Their relationship is unique and it would be difficult to hold it to standards that don’t even apply. “depends,” he deflects. You turn your head and flash him a wry, disbelieving look. “not very long from what i’ve heard,” he finally admits. Your eyes widen as you look at both pairs of hands, holding-but-not-holding your soul. The heart-shaped container seems to harden, sealing over somewhat, the usually dancing green dimming into a dull metallicness as a strange emotion akin to sadness passes through you like a wave. Sans’ fingers thread through yours and the light comes back, if somewhat reluctantly.

“but that doesn’t matter. our relationship is different.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want to…deprive you of something because I’m not familiar with those customs or because I’m slow to be comfortable with them. You know?”

He kisses your shoulder and then your throat, biting the tiniest bit. “___. listen to me, ok? i couldn’t care less about what others expect of us. we’re doing this our way, together.” Skin depresses underneath bone. It’s a relieving pressure, a comfort that never ceases to restore that sense of self back to you, to home. “what matters to me is that i love you and you love me. we agreed it would happen when you’re comfortable. not before.” Green blazes once more and you hear him release a sigh, along with sensing a broad smile cross his face.

“And you believe me right?” you say now, emphatic. God, it feels like your emotions are so much more volatile and _alive_ when your soul is out in the open. It would make sense honestly. “My soul is yours as much as it’s mine.”

He drops a hand to clutch you to him. He digs his skull into your neck and woodsmoke-scented hair as he hugs you. “i know,” he murmurs as elation floods through him. “and mine is yours too. i love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you say, genuine smile lifting your face now. You can’t help it. Sans’ strong surge of emotion only serves to reinforce your own, and you feel it in his magic. It’s an almost overwhelming heat that caresses so very close, but never touching. That need resurfaces and it takes everything to lower your intertwined hands, his physical and magic hold slipping. Your soul wavers and dissolves, free from its tether, the net of magic used to keep it steady. It whirls and coils back into your chest and you’re whole once more. Sans exhales heavily.

“thanks,” he whispers.

You laugh. “For what?”

“letting me see. and keeping me honest and decent,” he chuckles and you join him. His hands start rubbing up and down your sides to around your back.

You bow over, groaning your satisfaction. “Mmm, you’re welcome….”

His deep laugh rumbles behind you. “so quickly you succumb to backrubs.” You just hum. “is this how i get ya to do things?”

“Probably,” you mutter, absorbed in his hands. You pat your head. “This or headrubs. Fastest way to my heart and soul.”

“good to know.” He leans over you, hugging you to his body. “let’s go back to bed, babe.”

“Good idea,” you say as you close your computer. You rise from the couch and pull Sans up after you. You walk back to bed together, hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a much shorter chapter, more interim really. Life happened and I've had to rework a few things in the meantime. But summer classes are over so regular updates will resume! Thanks for all of your patience and you're fucking wonderful human beings and maybe not humans but that's ok too I'm looking at you, Zognoids.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	39. Celebrate

_Just FUCKING copy and paste you worthless document piece of shit, PLEASE_ , is what you genuinely want to scream inside this godforsaken library. You’re so close. All of your effort is coming to a head. But really a thunderhead because you want to destroy everything. Formatting is your bane, the reason for your unexistence in this shoddy world. It’s bleak, the colors of comforting reality oozing into the flat grays of meaninglessness.

And then you finally figure it out, everything coming back with a snap. You stand with your hands in the air, pacing furiously around your little corner in hard-won victory. You just want to yell your triumph but you need to submit it _now_. All the figures are in order, page numbers in the correct position. Your mouse hovers over the SUBMIT icon. And just sits there as you stare unwilling. You’ve spent so long on this that you’re simultaneously sick to death of looking at it and scared that you’ll have forgotten to fix or include something. But, as with most other things in your life, you force yourself to say, “Fuck it,” and submit that bitch, sending it away forever. Oh god, it feels both amazing and like it hasn’t even ended. You imagine you’ll truly feel the relief a couple of days afterward. But for now, you throw all of your shit into your wonderful backpack and peace out of the library, not envious of those still stuck in the throes of research.

You’ll be back, but not anytime soon, SUCKERS.

You hop inside your truck and make way for the skeleton brothers’ house. You call Sans when you’re close.

“hey there,” he drawls as he picks up.

“Hay is for horses, babycakes. You home?” you say, beaming.

He laughs, wonderful and loud, “yeah, what’s up? that’s not the ceiling or sky i guess.”

“Sweet, unlock the door, I need it for my entrance,” you say excitedly as you pull into the driveway, hopping out and sprinting to the door. Your backpack flops and smacks against your back as you leap up the steps. You throw open the door and spring inside, sliding along the hardwood. “I’M DOOOOOONE!!!” you crow. Papyrus meets you in mid-stride, picking you up to twirl you around with a whooping laugh.

“I AM VERY PROUD OF YOU, HUMAN! THIS CALLS FOR CELEBRATION SPAGHETTI!” he cries, enthusiastic. You catch Sans grinning over his broad shoulder. He watches you and Papyrus lovingly and happy. Papyrus drops you to the ground and says as he heads into the kitchen, “Let me see if we have everything! WE SHOULD INVITE UNDYNE AND ALPHYS TOO!”

“Yeah!” you respond, throwing your arms into the air. Sans ambles over to you and you drop your arms with a hefty, relieved sigh onto his shoulders. He hugs you close, picking you up with a grunt to spin you around once. You let out a peal of laughter and his rolling chuckles join yours.

“congrats, babe. knew ya could do it,” he whispers into your ear before kissing you square on your smiling lips.

“I was worried for bit. But it’s fucking done, finally,” you chuckle against his mouth.

“ya know what this means though?” His hands stray to your ass, squeezing you tight to him.

It’s not hard to guess, considering his hands and the rumbling growls that bounce around quietly in his chest. “Celebration. Of a sinful kind, I’m guessing.”

“good guess. dr. sans will have to give you an a+. there’s an opportunity for extra credit though,” he mutters, dark and delightful and wicked as he licks your throat. You shudder, trying and failing to stifle the fire that’s erupting within you. Your hands alight on either side of his face as you kiss him once again.

“Gotta wait a little bit there, my sweet skeleton. You’re getting me all hot and bothered before it’s time,” you say, smiling.

He pouts as he grins. “why’s it gotta wait?”

“Because we’ll need copious amounts of time,” you tease with a sly wink. His eye flashes blue at that and if his grin could get any wider, it would crack his handsome face. “And, I would like my well-earned celebration spaghetti,” you say, fingers brushing his jaw around to his chin. A shout from the kitchen draws your attention.

“WE HAVE ALL THE INGREDIENTS! LET ME CALL UNDYNE AND ALPHYS!” Papyrus shouts. You share a joyful smile with Sans, hooking an arm around his neck. His snakes around your waist, drawing you near, as you listen. “Yes. Come over NOW. RIGHT NOW UNDYNE! I WILL HAVE TO START WITHOUT YOU IF YOU DO NOT SHOW UP IN…TEN MINUTES. I WILL HAVE THE TIMER GOING! READYSETGO!” And then he hangs up and you burst into loud laughter, clinging to a chuckling Sans.

“Need help Paps?” you call.

“THANK YOU BUT UNDYNE AND I SHALL COOK FOR YOU AS CONGRATULATIONS!” He shoots you a thumbs up and starts getting ingredients together. You shrug and look over at Sans.

“ya don’t wanna be in the same kitchen when they cook together anyway,” he whispers with a grin. He tugs you onto the couch, settling right against your side. You slouch into the cushions, exhaling long and low in relaxed contentment, feeling like jelly, all the tension from the past few weeks leaking from your body. Your eyes are closed what seems to be only a few minutes when suddenly you hear tires screech and a door slam. You sit up, a bit alarmed, torn between following the hurrying skeleton behind you or the bounding fish monster in front. Papyrus throws open the door just as Undyne springs inside.

“TIME ME!” she thunders, flexing her blue-scaled arms.

“EIGHT MINUTES AND THIRTY-SEVEN SECONDS! YOU HAVE IMPROVED!” Undyne hollers her victory and wrestles Papyrus into a noogie. He struggles, but it’s futile while in the iron cage of her arms, completely and totally in vain.

She points to you and you stare with widening eyes, her grin toothy and glinting with promise. “Congrats punk! You’re next!” You move like a shot, desperately scrambling to avoid her self-assured strides, but a strong, bony hand holds onto yours just a bit longer than necessary.

“Traitor!” you shout in betrayal as Undyne catches you, giving you a rough and triumphant noogie, ruffling your hair beyond repair. A loud, deep, bouncing laugh sounds out, full of mirth and devoid of any remorse. He’s gonna get it, you vow. You look at Sans with a cringing and withering glare, mouthing, _You’re mine_ , as you jab a finger in his direction. His laughter just increases and he blows a kiss to you. Undyne drops you and you huff, but can’t keep the smile from your face. “Thanks, I guess,” you laugh.

“Duh!”

You search past her with a confused expression. “Where’s Alphys?”

“She had to finish some work at the lab, but she says congratulations! Now, let’s get to cookin’ Papyrus!” She races him to the kitchen and now everything is filled with the clatter of pans and muted yelling.

You collapse onto the couch, smoothing out the tangles now nesting in your hair. “it’s a good look for you,” Sans says sweetly, smirking over at you. You stick your tongue out at him. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, but you pull it away, your own smirk littering your features.

“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna have to earn that back, mister.” His eyes flash, and they say Challenge Accepted. He scoots closer to you and you move, keeping the space between you open. Tension of a much less stressful kind fills it now, if the heat from his gaze and inside you are any indication.

“only got so much couch,” he chuckles darkly.

You swallow, biting your lip and smiling. You extend the distance again when he shifts. He’s very right because just then your hip hits the armrest. “Well, that’s the thing about living in a three-dimensional world. I have three axes to choose from,” you tease when you start to rise.

“oh no ya don’t,” he calls, grasping your hand and pulling you back down, right onto his lap. His dense arms lace over your torso, effectively trapping you. “gotcha,” he says, smugness lining every inch of that deep, velvety voice.

“You still haven’t earned anything,” you say with a short laugh.

“ya haven’t even let me try yet,” he whispers next to your ear, teeth nipping your neck the barest bit. And then his hands join in, discreetly rubbing your sides. You gasp when they brush against your chest.

“Sans,” you hiss, keeping your voice and emotions under control. It’s a struggle.

“yes?” he asks, innocently. His hands aren’t stopping. And they’re straying ever higher.

“Not _now_ ,” you scold, your worries warring with your wants. Are they needs? You’re not really sure anymore, the line having dissolved long ago.

He hums and kisses your neck and shoulder, tender and lingering, before saying, “i _guess_ you’re right.” He sounds crestfallen and it’s enough to make your heart thump. But then he says gruffly, “but later, _you’re_ mine,” and it’s enough to send a hot shudder through you and straight into your soul. He exhales and hugs you tight before letting you go to slide off. But he still keeps you close to his side. Your left and his right hand join, fingers twisting together as you watch TV and listen to the rising clamor in the kitchen.

“Should we be worried?” you ask, brow raising at the almost horrific sounds.

“nah, they’ve gotten a lot better. they don’t burn things down nearly as often now.” Your mouth opens and closes. You’re sorely tempted to question, but you step back and just let it go, nonplussed. You’ll trust Sans for now. “so ya done with school for right now?” he asks. His thumb rubs lazy circles into your hand.

“Yes and no. The majority is done. But I’ll still be doing some personal work here and there.” He nods, grinning. “When is your next meeting?” you ask now.

“soon. next week.”

“Cool. I’ll see ya off again.” You smile and he squeezes your hand. “You ready?”

“sure. but not to see moore’s stupid fucking face again. i’ll snoop around for anything on sully though. ask asgore about him.” You lean over and kiss his falling cheekbone. The kiss does its job because it lifts once more.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you murmur.

His skull turns and he leans into your lips. “thanks, babe.”

“HEY PUNKS! FOOD IS DONE AND AWESOME!” Undyne yells from the kitchen.

Papyrus chimes in with a, “YES WHAT UNDYNE SAID!”

You pop up, excitement buzzing through you, and drag Sans up with you. He gives an exaggerated groan, but not without his charming grin. “C’mon, lazybones. Celebration Round 1.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun silliness. And anticipation?
> 
> I always like that.
> 
> Keepin' these shorter just for now to stay on schedule and catch up a little *finger guns*
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	40. The Whole Nine Yards*

You sit back in the chair, enjoying the pleasant, late afternoon atmosphere in the bone brothers’ kitchen. The spaghetti was…interesting. Better, but with a slight burned aftertaste that you can only imagine was Undyne’s doing. You appreciate it all the same though.

“Thanks guys. This was great,” you say with a broad, sincere smile.

“Yeah!” Undyne shouts at the same time Papyrus says, “Of course!” You grab Sans’ hand under the table and he squeezes it back, flashing you a quick wink.

“So ya coming back to the gym, punk?” Undyne asks while Papyrus picks up all of the plates.

“Yeah, now that I’m done with writing, I’ll have more free time.” Sans’ fingers trail to your wrist, stroking the thin skin that’s there. You glance over, but he has his poker face on, lazy and smiling.

“Great! Because we’ve still gotta race!” she yells, grinning with the fire of competition in her glittering, yellow eye.

“You’re on,” you say, leaning forward and meeting her passion.

“You must be careful!” Papyrus scolds, pointing at Undyne and yourself. “Their arm might not be one-hundred percent, yet!” he says as he picks up your right arm, waving it around. You laugh and take it back, patting his own lanky arm.

“I’m good I think.”

Sans drawls, “yeah, gotta _hand_ it to ‘em, they seem to be doin’ al _right_.”

Papyrus whirls and points at Sans now. “NO.” You and Undyne sputter, holding in your laughter. Sans’ smile only widens, empowered by the mirth, withheld though it is. Papyrus turns with a huff and continues cleaning up. Undyne follows suit and you get up to join them, but Sans pulls you back down to his level, cheek resting against his mouth.

“now?” he asks, deep with thinly-disguised want.

Your cheeks dimple as you chuckle. “Not yet,” you tease, placing a small kiss to his own hard cheekbone. He lets you go with a stymied groan. You help them clean up, passing the time as if none of you had it to waste. The four of you migrate to the living room to watch TV. The minutes trickle into hours, the chuckles into laughter, and, by the third time he asks you that same question of “now?”, Sans’ desires into needs. You’d be lying if you said they weren’t your needs too. You do love to see him squirm sometimes, though. But Sans takes matters into his own sturdy hands.

“didn’t ya need to get home, babe?” Sans asks loud and clear. Everyone turns their head to you.

You gape and say, “Huh?”

“ya said ya needed to do some polishing. fix some pipes. drill, screw, bang around, whatever it is those crazy kids are callin’ home improvement today,” Sans purrs conversationally, his arm around your shoulder as he looks at you. There is no compromise in his laughing eyes. You applaud yourself for winning that desperate battle with the rising flush in your face. You smile, apologetic to Papyrus and Undyne. Papyrus looks on, perplexed, but Undyne…. The glint in her eye says she is far from being fooled. You’re not touching that one.

You get up from the couch and hug the rising Papyrus and Undyne, saying, “Thanks, you guys. I really loved dinner and company and you’re both fantastic.” They hug you back fiercely.

“We shall see you soon! Good luck with your home improvement!” Papyrus says.

You scream internally.

Sans coughs suspiciously loudly behind you.

“Yeah, have a _good night_ , punk!” Undyne chirps, blinking enthusiastically. The blush in your cheek confirms it was winking, as well as her resounding laughter. Sans ushers you to the door, holding it open with a triumphant smirk.

“Fuckin’ smooth,” you mutter, grin splitting your face.

“thanks, i thought so too,” he says.

You roll yours eyes and kiss him before turning. He slaps your ass on the way out. “now get on home. text me,” he laughs, eyes flashing with mirth and anticipation at your pleasantly outraged expression.

\--------------------

You have just the thing in mind for Celebration Round 2. You’re positive Sans is going to love it too. He _did_ ask for it a while back. You open your lingerie drawer, shifting the supple fabrics around in the wooden box. You’re sure you had some blue things…. Aha. There they are.

**_\- Come over in 30 for celebration._ **

_\- fuck yeah_

You pull out the clothes and grab some thigh-highs. You’re not gonna bother with heels. You smirk. You probably wouldn’t have them on for long anyway. Plus, you don’t want to have to worry about balance when you’re focused on trying to be sexy.

You head into your bathroom and quickly change into the lingerie. You’ve already taken a shower so all you have to do is put on some minimal makeup. You don’t normally like to wear any, but it won’t hurt for this little show. It may help with your confidence too. Now, you think to yourself, do you want to go for the cute babydoll, or sultry goddess? You cross your arms and look in the mirror. Your conflicted visage stares back at you. _How about a compromise?_ it asks. Confident femininity. Not over-the-top.

Yep.

You apply some mascara and light eyeliner, a touch of eyeshadow and a light coat of darker lipstick. You finish cleaning up, brushing and fluffing up your hair, when you hear a distinct pop inside your bedroom.

“___?” You hear Sans’ muffled voice.

You call out from your bathroom, “Sit on the bed! I’ll be out in a minute.”

Your bed creaks. _It’ll be doing a lot of that tonight_ , you think wickedly. You shrug on your light, silk robe and exhale hard, rolling your shoulders and neck, jumping from foot to foot, psyching yourself up. You can do this. You’re sexy.

You _goddamn_ rock.

You call out again, “Ok, ya ready?”

“better believe it, baby.”

“Good. Close your eyes!”

You open the door and see Sans sitting on the edge of your bed, feet crossed in front of him and leaning back on both hands. His eyes are closed and you see his ever-present smile widen as he hears the door open. You smile and lean with your back against the doorframe. You bring up one leg and place it up under your bottom, freeing it from the confines of your robe. You shove your hands in your pockets, breathe out a sigh, steel yourself then let go.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

Sans’ eyes open lazily. As soon as they catch sight of you, they snap wider and his eye-lights brighten, the left flashing blue briefly. They rove up and down your figure, lingering on your exposed leg. He sits up, eager.

You smile at him, trying to be seductive. “So. I remember you saying that you wanted me to dance for you sometime. Did I hear that right?”

His eyes rip themselves from your leg up to your face.

“yeah.”

Your smile gets bigger. “Good.”

You withdraw your hands from your pockets and bend over, running them from your foot all the way up your thigh to the top of your stockings. You cover it with your robe. You hear a small noise of disappointment from Sans. Your lips twitch. You lean over to your other leg, pushing away the robe and letting Sans see you run your hands up the same way. You tug at the rim of your stockings and tilt your head in Sans’ direction.

“Patience, baby.”

You hear him exhale roughly and shift.

Sans wants you. As soon as he saw you in the doorway, he wanted to take you. He can see plain as day in your face and swagger that you feel confident and he feeds off of it like he couldn’t get through one more night without it, like he needs it to survive. Maybe he does. It turns him on in all the right ways and he can feel his magic rise as he watches you. As much as he wants to make you his, he loves watching this side of you. So he waits. You’ll both let this celebration play out.

You straighten and cover yourself, squaring off to Sans. You start to sway back and forth to a rhythm only you can hear. You stride, slow and languid, over to Sans, holding his gaze. You bring up your arms, sliding them along your curves and up under your hair. You approach him and tug at your collar, revealing your neck and part of your shoulder. He’s staring holes through you, the desire crystalline and unclouded in his eyes.

You cock your hip and smile down at him. “Do you wanna see?”

He nods a quick acquiescence. You tug it a little lower, tracing the hem down to your cleavage.

“Do you wanna unwrap your present?”

His hands twitch and he nods again, gaze hungry. He breathes out, “yes.”

Your hand goes even lower, dancing along your chest. You smile, eyes lidded.

“Have you been a good boy?”

He smirks, lighting up. “i like to think i have.” His grin widens and his left eye sparks. He growls, “i can be naughty too though.” You inhale, getting even more turned on, feeling the heat settle heavy and wanting in your pelvis. You bite your lip.

“I may have to punish you later if you’re naughty.” He rumbles in response.

Your hands come down to your belt and you start swaying again, playing coy as you ask, “But can you be a good boy and help me with my belt?”

He smiles and leans forward, grabbing your belt with one of his hands, tugging you strongly toward him. His hands trace the belt around your waist, around and back to the front again, feeling every part of you before slowly untying the knot. He moves to open your robe, but you stop him, placing your hands over his. He groans at your touch. You remove his hands and step back. They drop, clenching the fabric on his knees instead. He looks at you in barely-checked need and want. It makes the fire in you rage, setting every part of you aflame.

You turn around and delicately slip the robe from your shoulders and your body, catching the fabric with one hand and throwing it off to the side. You’re wearing dark blue silk panties and bra, with a sheer black and blue sleeveless slip over the top. You hear his breath catch and a slight rumble echo in the room. Just the reaction you wanted. You smile and look over your shoulder at him, shimmying.

His jaw is dropped. And his eyes. All dark except for the left. It’s flaring, a twining, twin blue and yellow flame.

If it could eat you alive, it would.

You run your hands along your waist and around your back to under your ass. You move down your legs and bend over, giving him a show. You’re still rocking your hips to that hidden beat, it only growing louder and more demanding as it plays on. Your back straightens and then you twist to face him. You start walking over as your hands continue their journey over your stomach, outlining your breasts and up your neck into your hair. You stop in front of Sans in a power stance, hands on hips, looking down at him. You feel every bit as fearless as you know you look, because you have him eating out of your hand. He’s absolutely enrapture. That revelation sings through you, spiraling fast into your soul.

Your hips begin to move in a figure-eight, very much like that first close encounter of the sexy kind so long ago. You hope he remembers it. If not, he’s damn well going to remember this you vow. Your fingers graze along your stomach and the hem of your overlay. You slowly draw it up and over your head, smiling all the while, hot and courageous. You lay it daintily over Sans’ skull. He chuckles low and his hand grabs it, bringing it up to his face, smelling it as he looks up at you, eye intense. You step closer and nudge his knees farther apart with yours. He complies and you step right up to him. You feel the heat of his breath and his eye on your now exposed stomach. It excites you in ways you never thought before. The fun, the danger, the promises of the future, all the things you haven’t done yet but will do because you _can_. As your arousal mounts, it’s getting a little harder to focus, and your breathing deepens. A bead of sweat takes a lazy trip down your temple.

You ask him in a husky voice, “What do you want?”

He whispers, “you.”

You sigh and smile. “Not sure I heard you baby.” You did.

His eye meets yours, blazing. His voice is louder and thick with lust and love, one and the same in this moment. “you. only you. ever.”

You close your eyes for a moment and give a soft hum. Your smile only grows and you look back down at him.

“Then celebrate with me.”

He jumps at your request, hands grabbing your hips and pushing down your panties, fingers trailing down the skin of your thighs. You step out of them and as you do, Sans stands up, pulling you close. His mouth presses against yours and you throw your arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. The building tension of your dancing is broken as soon as your body is against his, and the relief of his rough hands finally rubbing along your nearly bare flesh causes you to moan against his mouth. He groans in response. His hands come up your back and fiddle with the clasp on your bra. After a minute he unlatches it and pulls back to let it fall off of you. He steps back more to really look at you, hands grazing lightly across your stomach and breasts.

“geez, ___. you don’t know how hard it was to keep myself from you for that long. ever since you stepped outta that damn bathroom. well…ever since you came over, really.”

You smirk and lick your dry lips. You look at him with enthusiastic eyes. “Well, now’s your chance. Take me, Sans _._ ”

His eye burns. He moves quickly to you, kissing you passionately, hands roaming all over your body. Your hands move to his ribs and shirt, aiming single-mindedly to rid him of his clothes that are so rudely in the way. But he stops you. He moves his mouth next to your ear, one hand gripping your hair as the other holds you close.

“do _you_ remember when you teased me? i think it might be time to settle the score.”

You guess he does remember. Your jaw drops and you breathe out a shocked, “Oh, no….”

He growls out, “oh, yes.”

His tongue materializes and licks your ear, causing a delightful shiver to trickle down your melting spine. He chuckles and turns, pulling you with him. He lays you down on the bed and stands over you. You feel exposed under his ardent scrutiny, but so aroused from it at the same time. He looks down at you, flaming eye taking in your naked body. He taps his chin. The clicks of bone are loud in the otherwise quiet room, but not louder than the blood pounding ferociously in your ears.

“i think _i_ remember you saying i can’t touch. did i hear that right?”

You bite your lip. “Not sure.”

He smirks but his voice is low. “don’t lie to me, baby.”

You exhale hard, lifting your chin. “I guess I might’ve.”

He shifts his weight, smiling in victory. “and so i won’t. unless. you do exactly as i say.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips angled in a crooked smirk of your own. “And what happens if I don’t?”

His eye boils and his magic grabs your ankle, dragging you closer to him. You give a sharp gasp. He leans forward, smiling devilishly.

“then _i_ might have to punish _you_.”

God, you want him so badly. You close your eyes and fight your arousal down, the urge to beg for him to touch you even the tiniest bit almost too strong to resist. But two can play this game. We’ll see how long he lasts too.

You open your eyes and breathe out, “Alright.”

His eye narrows slightly in suspicion at your easy agreement. But he chalks it up to your desire. He steps back to lean against your dresser, hands in his pockets. His magic lets you go and he gives his first order.

“touch your body. slowly.”

You smile and sit up, bringing up your legs and spreading them. You lean forward and drag your hands along your legs and up the outside of your thighs. Your eyes never leave his. He smiles.

“inside your thighs.”

You obey, fingers trailing lightly along the path of his desire.

“remove your stockings. slowly.”

A mischievous smile. “Don’t you wanna do that yourself?”

His eye flickers again as he laughs. “do as i say, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, heat settling low in your belly as you remove them at a pain-staking pace. He says, “good girl. now, touch your breasts.”

You do. Running your hands along the breadth of them, feeling them, squeezing them. You tweak the nipples and arch your back as you give a soft gasp. You open your eyes and stare at Sans as you rub them. You see small cyan beads of sweat roll down his skull. His smile is wide and strained. He clears his throat before giving his next command.

“rub your clit. slowly.”

His talking is stimulating, his gruff voice sending shudders through your body. Your hand moves lower and as soon as you start touching yourself, you moan and fall back on the covers. You continue to stroke yourself, trying not to get too lost but it’s a hard-won battle.

Sans watches you, overcome with pleasure. He takes his hands out of his pockets and grips the edge of the dresser so hard it creaks. He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything so incredibly hot before. The way your body twitches to your motions, your wild hair, your flushed face, beautiful mouth opened in near-ecstasy. He wants you. More than anything else in this world. He wants to take you and fuck you senseless. But he almost loves teasing you too much. He’s caught onto your game. He loves seeing you squirm, just as much as you love seeing him that way. He sees you building up, chest heaving, close to orgasm.

He can’t have that.

“stop.”

You barely hear him, your tameless body not responding to your rational mind, the part that’s still listening to Sans; you’re too close to your goal.

You do hear him growl, however. Too bad it only makes you burn hotter.

“i said _s t o p._ ”

You feel his magic snake around your wrists, pulling them from your body and up above your head. You’re panting, crying your frustration, hips moving for any kind of friction. You throw your head back into the twisted sheets, nearly growling yourself.

You grind out his name, lust clouding your mind. “ _Sans_ ….”  

Seeing you helpless and begging for him ignites Sans, urging on that primal part of him. You look up, sweat beading on your forehead and body. Seeing him just causes you to struggle more. He’s taking off his shirt as he stares hard at you. Your eyes are glued to his eye and the bones of his body. He grabs his shorts.

“do ya want me to take these off.”

It’s more of a statement, not a question. He knows the answer. Of course you want them off. He can see it clear as day in your face. He wants to _hear_ you say it though.

“God _yes_ Sans. Please, just _take_ me. Touch me… _please_ ….”

He smirks and drops his shorts, climbing onto the bed over you. You yank at your magical restraints. He chuckles at your fruitless efforts. He lifts one hand and drags it lightly and agonizingly slow, all the way from your temple, down your neck, over your breasts, to your hip. The soft touch after so long is both a balm and catalyst to your heat. You moan loud and long at the feeling. The sound riles Sans up, his magic hastening. He bends forward and kisses a line down your neck, finally biting down as he presses his dense bones into the comfortable flesh of your body. Your groan is strong, rattling him.

Finally.

“Oh god, Sans…. _Yes_ ….” You hiss in your ecstasy.

He growls against your throat, tongue laving as he bites and kisses. You shift and glide your body against his. He groans even more as he feels your body on his. His eye glows a bit brighter and you feel his length he’s made for you against your folds. His magic releases your wrists.

FINALLY.

You wrap your arms around his thick torso and push up with your hips as he thrusts against you. Then suddenly, he adjusts his hips and slips inside you. You moan as you feel him slide in, slowly stretching you. You jerk your head just as Sans bites down harder at the feeling of you joining. You feel a small stab of pain on your neck. You gasp, half in shock and half in unbound pleasure. Your hands grip his ribs. You feel the smallest trickle of what you know to be blood run down your shoulder. But you don’t care. You close your eyes, lost in him, lost in everything.

Sans doesn’t notice much at first, so lost he is in the feeling of you and your muscles surrounding him. But when his jaw twinges, he distinctly feels his canines piercing your skin and his tongue tastes the warm metallic of your blood. His eye-sockets widen, and he quickly releases you, hands coming up to your face. Slight panic colors his hoarse voice.

“___? you’re bleeding. did i hurt you?”

Your eyes open, unhurried, glazed over in desire. You pant out a bit shakily and swivel your hips, “No Sans. You will though if you don’t start moving. I’m yours.”

He closes his sockets and groans at your movement stroking him. He does as you ask, thrusting into you slowly. You meet him, breathing hard. You two begin to pick up the pace. He lifts his head and kisses you hard. His right arm slides underneath your back and around your waist, lifting you. His left hand weaves through your hair to cradle your head. He places his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes.

He growls in between thrusts, “i’m yours…and you’re mine….”

You stare right back and pant with him, whispering, “Y-yes…always.”

He kisses you again, trailing down to your jaw and down the other side of your neck. He licks you. He feels your muscles begin to twitch around him and he thrusts harder.

He murmurs brokenly against your neck, drowning in you, losing himself in the process, a willing victim, “come for m-me.”

You gasp, breathless, twisting at his command. A few more moments and you spasm, arching your back against his ribs as one of your strongest orgasms ravages your body. Your hands anchor themselves to his chest.

“ _Fuck, Sans!”_

At your outburst, he bites down on your neck again. The feeling of you clenching around him spurs Sans on and it only takes a couple more thrusts before he follows you in ecstasy.

You collapse back onto the sheets as Sans’ slowing strokes lead the both of you through your climaxes. When he stills, his eye extinguishes and you feel a distinct emptiness. He lays on top of you, still holding you, kissing your chest and neck with soft pressure. His hands glide along your face, wiping the hair and sweat from it. He looks at you. Really looks at you. Your heartbeat is tapering but your soul is still raging from the wealth of emotions you’re feeling. Happiness, love, contentment. They resonate, only making you more beautiful in his eyes. You look exhausted, delightfully ravaged, and completely satiated. Your soft eyes gaze into his. He bends down to kiss your swollen lips. You smile against his teeth and chuckle, reveling in the aftermath and an internal, crowing thrumming that has nothing to do with your heart.

“Damn. Sans, that was incredible.”

“it was.” He looks over at your strewn lingerie. “color me surprised. what a successful celebration.”

You laugh breathlessly and you kiss him once again before he rolls off of you. He props himself on his elbow as he lays next to you. You turn onto your side to face him. His hand comes up to your punctured shoulder, fingering the marks gently. It’s not even really bleeding anymore. He gets up from the bed, heading to your bathroom as you look on, curious. He comes back with a damp washcloth and sits back down on the bed next to you. He gently wipes the blood from your shoulder, kissing the mark once he’s done. You lift your hand and place it on the side of his face, tenderly caressing his jaw. You tilt your head and smile.

“I’m alright you know.”

He nods. “you would tell me if i hurt you. gotta remember that.”

You hum. “Mhmm. I like it though. Fuck me if it isn’t hot as hell.”

He looks at you with a slight smirk on his face. “that can be arranged.”

Your eyes widen and your hand slides under his chin as a smile curls your raw lips. You enunciate clearly, so there’s no room for misinterpretation.

“It was the least hot thing that you’ve ever done.”

His eye-lights flash and his grin broadens. He leans over you and kisses you madly.

“well then, prepare to get fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
>  
> 
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com
> 
> P.S. Coincidentally this was 9 pages long.


	41. Call Me Snoopy

A yawn you feel from the depths of your toes all the way to the tips of your fingers barrels through you sluggish and chugging. You roll onto your back and unfurl, stretching like a cat in the late morning light. Your body is delightfully sore and exhausted, but your heart and soul are full to the brim with love. Your arms lay on the cool pillow above your head. You look over and see the bare bones of Sans’ body resting face-first in your sheets and pillows. Then he tenses and his bones rattle as he yawns, a dull wind chime in the careless throes of a hurricane. He unearths his skull and peers at you, bleary and tired. But you think you see the same feelings you have reflected in his brightening pupils.

“morning,” he rasps, gruff.

“Morning,” you say, smiling. You turn and kiss his cheekbone before hopping on top of his pelvis. He lets out a short bark of laughter from the sudden weight. Your hands splay along his back, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles along the dense ribs and spine. A low groan emanates from his chest and he practically melts under your touch. It’s not a traditional massage, but he seems to be enjoying it. You apply pressure along his shoulders, down to his scapulae, and pay attention to each individual rib. Push and pull.

“oooh yeah,” he sighs. “that feels great, babe.”

“Well you took such good care of me last night, I wanted to return the favor,” you say, thinking of his careful tongue and his rough hands with breathless remembrance. You bend and kiss his neck, murmuring, “Mostly, I just like to do it.”

He chuckles, expanding his shoulder-blades back and forth underneath you. “i like to do ya, too.” You laugh, lips drifting over his skull. You spend a few more languid moments massaging his back before you get up from on top of him and off the bed. He yawns and stretches once more, lifting and propping himself up on his elbows. He watches as you reach for the ceiling, your naked body and muscles rippling and your soul practically rejoicing. To him, it’s as bright as the sunlight streaming through your curtains. He slides out of bed, the sheets falling from his bones. His hands find their home on your waist, dragging up and down your sides. You swivel in his closing embrace, and he kisses you. At first soft and tender, but growing in earnest passion. He lifts you and you hook your legs over his hips with a laugh. You feel his eye flare and you hold him tighter.

“and down we go,” he says, the both of you falling through the brief void into your living room. Your eyes are closed, but your lips find his mouth again, grounding yourself after losing a bit on the way. He presses against you, groaning low.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too, ___. wanna know how much?” he says, grinning.

“Is it a metric ton?” you ask, excitedly, mirth twinkling in your eyes.

He beams. “nah. more.”

“Really? You couldn’t possibly mean…?” you gasp.

“oh, i mean.” Pause for dramatic effect. “a skele-ton.”

Your arms wrap his skull up and press it to your chest as you yell in laughter, “Oh _shit_! Skele-ton up in here!” He erupts into deep, rhythmic laughter with you. He wishes they could just do this all the time. Not have to worry about everything forgotten during the night. And when dawn breaks, all those things are remembered and take precedence. At least he gets some time with you before the meeting.

Because before either of you know it, it’s here.

Sans smoothes the shirt you gave him over his chest. The fabric lays warm and soft on his ribs, a reminder of you. He shrugs his dress shirt over top, keeping you close and guarded. You sit and watch on his bed next to Papyrus, the both of you kicking your legs back and forth. The mattress squeaks as you go to and fro, timing out Sans’ movements in the morning light. Papyrus has picked out a dark grey shirt for him this time and as your eyes follow Sans’ hands, buttoning up the iron-hued material, you think he looks incredibly handsome. His hands stray to his sleeves last, but he balks, looking at you instead. He steps over with a vaguely shy grin.

“you’re better at it than me,” he laughs.

“I gotcha,” you say, smiling, as your fingers make quick work of folding up the sleeves end-over-end, deft and methodical.

“You look quite great, brother!” Papyrus says, clapping.

“well, it’s thanks to you guys,” Sans says, voice layered with genuine gratitude. He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking around to make sure he has everything.

“Ready?” you ask.

He gives you a thumbs up as he nods. But his pupils are dimmer than usual. A knock sounds on the door and Papyrus jumps up to get it. You rise as well and wrap your arms around Sans. He holds you close, tucking his face in your neck.

You reassure him, saying “You’ll be great and everything’ll be fine.” He chuckles and presses his mouth to your throat, before he moves to your waiting lips.

“i’ll do some snoopin’ today,” he says.

You laugh. “Alright, but don’t get in trouble. I know you’re bad to the bone, but call me if you need anything.”

He barks out a laugh and squeezes you to him. “love you,” he mutters as his hand caresses your cheek. You can’t help the heated shiver that sparks its way down your spine.

“Love you too.” You kiss him once more and you both step out of the room to where Asgore and Papyrus are chatting.

“Hello you two,” he rumbles, smiling wide behind his beard.

“Hi Asgore,” you say as Sans waves.

“Are you ready?” he asks, looking to Sans. He nods and hugs you and Papyrus once more before stepping past Asgore.

“Be safe,” you say, meeting eyes with the towering king.

He says, serious, “Of course. You as well, little one.” A smile then breaks apart the severe lines.

“Definitely.” He waves a final farewell and follows Sans out. You and Papyrus watch them from the open door, standing close to one another, absorbing the comfort nearness provides. You wonder if that anxious feeling will ever go away.

\-----------------

People and camera crews crowd along the sidewalks like rapid dogs, desperate for any view or sign of those involved in the talks. Opposing sides shout and yell, waving their signs as if that could actually make a difference. Sans isn’t sure how he feels about it. On the one hand, it’s nice to see people actually care and willing to welcome monsters whole-heartedly. But on the other, there is so much hate. He wonders if this is indicative of the population as a whole. Is the majority moderate, with the hate he sees here as a minority? Just people that don’t have anything better to do with their lives other than making others’ worse than their own. Trying to validate their own problems through disgust. Or is it the other way around? Is the world really worse off than he thinks? He hopes not as he fiddles with his sleeves. Suddenly, the car is stopped and Asgore begins talking to an armed guard through the window. Sans catches the hushed, but insistent voices.

“The garage is blocked, you’ll have to go through the front,” the guard says, with an apologetic expression on his otherwise stern face. Asgore bristles and is about to say something, but he’s interrupted again. “We will give you an escort. Your safety is my priority,” he assures with a determined gleam to his eyes. Sans’ brow raises as he looks to the clamoring mob, then down at Frisk. They look confused, maybe even a little scared. He smiles, hiding his own fears.

“just stick close to your mom and asgore, alright, kiddo? i’ll be right behind ya.”

They look up to him with their round, dark eyes like mirrors. They nod, hesitant smile crossing their features. Asgore drives up to the front steps and as soon as they step out of the car the noise is jarring. Shouting, voices tumultuous and dissonant, escalate at the sight of them. Cameras flash. But immediately a retinue of armed men form a small shield on either side, keeping back the masses. Sans stares straight ahead, smiling, bringing up the rear. But then metal scrapes and a reporter scrambles through the line, heading towards Sans at a breakneck pace. He steps back, grin faltering as his instincts scream at him to teleport away. But then a large shape steps in front of him, holding out a burly arm to push back the reporter. One of the guards takes care of him, throwing him back behind the line. Sans looks up, sockets widening.

Sully.

He glances down at Sans, the intense, dark look filtering out of his features as he smiles, if a bit strained. “Let’s catch up,” he says, raising his deep voice to be heard. Sans nods and they hurry inside.

“thanks for that,” Sans says, hoping his gratitude overshadows the distrust he’d begun to feel when you tried looking up Sully’s background, with unsatisfying results.

“No problem at all. Figured ya might need a wee bit of help, even though you’ve got a good poker face,” Sully responds congenially as they step through the massive halls.

“i like to keep my cards close to my chest,” Sans says, chuckling. Sully responds in kind. The dull clicks of their shoes echo out, filling the silence left by their laughter as Sans tries to work through the tangled mess of his thoughts. It worries him that there’s nothing freely available about the tall, auburn-bearded man beside him. But…he can’t help but feel like his concern isn’t…genuine. In his soul, he doesn’t get the feeling of deceit or danger from Sully. Sans usually trusts his instincts and he’s not sure if they’re failing him now. He knows he has to take the plunge and find out though.

“so where ya from, sully?” Sans asks, grinning with his hands in his pockets, the picture of ease.

Sully looks down at Sans, mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Couldn’t tell from my accent?” They step into the meeting room. Everyone else seems to be there already.

“well…kinda been livin’ under a rock the past couple decades,” Sans chuckles again, good-natured.

Sully’s face brightens as his jaw drops. A bellowing laugh spills out of him and he slaps Sans on the back, a tiny “oof,” tumbling out of him as well. It’s soon replaced by laughter too when he catches his bearings. Sans spies coffee against the wall and beelines for it. He’s going to need it today. Sully follows him, thinking the same thing.

“Boy, ya sure do lighten things up ‘round here, Sans.” He places a hand on his chest, a wistful shadow settling on his face. “But, if you must know, I’m from dear old _Éire_ , the Ireland of my heart.”

Sans’ brow raises in interest. That’s something at least. “ireland, huh? far away from home.”

“Aye, sure am,” Sully says, rolling voice tampered with sadness. It passes by as surely as a cloud on a hot, buzzing summer day, because he asks, “And how about the object of _your_ heart? Tell me about ‘em. If ya like, that is,” he adds.

A soft smile lifts his mouth at the thought of you, almost of its own volition. Sully doesn’t miss it for a second, chuckling and elbowing Sans. Sans huffs a laugh, saying against his better judgement, “they’re great.”

“Sounds like ya love them desperately,” Sully says, confident in his own confirmation of a fact. As if reaffirming that yes, indeed, the sky is blue. Yes, indeed, the sun shines, the day turns to night, and the world turns and will keep on doing so long after they’re gone.

“i do.” He pauses, watching the coffee swirl in his cup, a chocolate and ebony whirlpool. “very much,” he continues after a moment, allowing Sully that much. Sully fixes his own mug, stirring in the cream, staring down into it not unlike Sans. A crooked smile lifts his face, but his eyes glint, deliberate and genuine. His voice is hushed, nearly drowned out by the chatting behind them. Sans listens intently.

“Take care of them. Loved ones are all that matter at the end of the day.”

Sans is taken aback by the abrupt change in tone. He’s about to speak up, but their conversation is cut short by an impatient-sounding Moore. “If everyone is quite done catching up, we should begin.” Sans rolls his eyes internally, flashing Sully a safe grin before sitting down next to Frisk again. He twists the cup in between his bony fingers as Asgore and Moore begin greetings and pre-meeting affairs. What was that all about? It…didn’t sound like a threat. That’s not what concerns Sans. It’s the pain behind it. The thin mask drawn over it, like a sheer veil whispering of the trauma that lays just past the curtain. He knows that all too well. It leads him to wonder why Sully would need it.  

“We’re sorry you weren’t able to get into the garage, Asgore. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong,” Dr. Thompson says, frowning.

Sen. Lee and Sully nod their agreement as Moore says, “Dreadful. That’s not exactly safe, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Sully grinds out.

Sans hones in on the senator’s gaunt face. His simpering frown is cloyingly sweet and fake. Like it was pasted on last-minute. He has one _good_ guess on who caused that mess. He glances over to Asgore, who takes it in stride, saying “Thank you for the concern. We are alright, thankfully.”

Sen. Lee clears her throat and says, cheerfully, “Well you’ll be glad to hear that there is overwhelming approval of integration into pre-existing schools.”

Toriel brightens and clasps her paws together as she laughs. “That is wonderful news, indeed!” She lays a snow-white paw on top of Frisk’s hair as they smile up at her.

“However…,” Sen. Lee hesitates.

“However, citizenship is still highly debated,” Moore says, a bit too gleeful.

Asgore frowns, but doesn’t look entirely surprised. He asks, “What keeps them?”

“To some, voting is the issue. To others, precedent for marriage, amongst other things,” Sen. Lee says. Sans catches the disappointment in her voice. He also catches how they looked at him at the mention of marriage, particularly Moore. Great.

“And what are your thoughts on monster-human marriage? Your reasons for it?” Moore directs his question right to Sans. Damn him. Moore’s spotted an opening and is taking full advantage to try and shake Sans.

“because it’s the right thing to let others have that choice,” Sans says smoothly, trying to distance you as far as possible from this.

“But what about _your_ choice? Isn’t this a personal issue for you?” Moore needles.

Sans’ jaw sets. “it’s personal to every monster and human out there.”

“And what about your significant other?” he asks, insistent, a hound out for blood.

If Sans had blood, it would be boiling. As it is, his magic is replicating it down to the molecule. He just grins wider. “what about them?” Sans gets immense joy from seeing Moore become more and more frustrated.

“What do they think of monster-human marriage?” he almost yells in annoyance at Sans’ dancing. Sans can’t help the ice creep into his deepening voice now and he’s aware of Frisk’s small flinch beside him.

“as far as i’m concerned, they don’t need to be discussed here.” Sans’ smile is frigid and broad, his pupils dim, offering no option for argument. Moore recoils at his tone, surprise and maybe fear flashing in his eyes. He tries opening his mouth again, but Sully shuts him up.

“Drop it, Moore.”

“Yes, that’s quite enough,” Dr. Thompson seethes, throwing an apologetic look Sans’ way. He thaws the slightest bit, but even more so when Frisk’s tiny hand slips into his own. He squeezes the small fingers and glances down at them. Though timid, their smile is still there and that helps him calm down.

He holds their hand for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jfc that title, I'm sorry. I was desperate.
> 
> Also I'm very sorry about the delayed update. I went home for America Day and had drinks and there's no writing coherent things when that happens. But it'll get back on track! <3
> 
> Mumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	42. Small Talk

This break could not have come sooner. Sans leans forward on the table and rubs his sockets as everyone stands, either filtering out or milling about. Sen. Lee, Dr. Thompson, Toriel, and Moore exit, but Sully follows swiftly after. Sans watches. His posture is at ease, but Sans sees his face. Hard to miss that determined look. He wonders what kinda bone Sully has to pick. If it’s the same as everyone else’s. If it’s the same as his. He thinks back to the confrontation. It puts a foul taste in his mouth. He feels like he keeps being blindsided by these meetings. It doesn’t help he’s not sure of your own feelings towards all of this. He’d be more confident if he knew. He agrees it’s not something that they need to worry about now, but he’d like to know _something_. Sans slouches down, the fire that had been igniting him earlier fading from his bones. Now all he feels is tired. More than usual that is. He looks over when Asgore speaks up.

“I’m sorry, Sans.”

His brows raise. “for what?”

“The way you are being treated,” he says, rubbing his bearded face in much the same way as Sans was earlier.

Sans chuckles and shrugs. “heh, ‘s alright. figured i’d ruffle some feathers.”

Frisk runs around, getting their excess energy out. Asgore watches with a small smile on his face, his long claws ticking on the table one-by-one. “I did not think it would be like this. I just hope he becomes more…accustomed.”

“and less of an asshole?” Sans says with a wry smirk.

Asgore allows himself a weak laugh. “Yes. That.” Sans stands and yawns, reaching for the ceiling in his stretch. His hands immediately try to go to the hoodie that isn’t there, and instead he shoves them in his pockets, unsatisfied. Asgore looks up at him, a question in his sorrowful, brown eyes.

“be back. gotta make a call.”

Asgore nods, a knowing look settling in. Sans exits the room into the towering hallway. Hushed, but angered voices hiss out in the stillness, drawing Sans’ attention. Moore and Sully are standing off to the side, glaring at each other. Moore glances at him, but Sans doesn’t look long, walking off in the other direction. That isn’t a conversation he wants to interrupt or get into, even if he is extremely curious at what’s being said. He just hopes Sully is tearing Moore a new one. All Sans wants right now though is to hear your voice. Once he gets to a secluded corner by a massive window, he pulls out his phone to call you. It takes a few rings before you pick up, out of breath.

“Hey!”

He laughs, saying, “hey, do i really leave ya that breathless?” You laugh, long and loud and he sighs from the noise, immediately relaxing and leaning against the cool tile. He can hear the smile in your voice and he can’t wait to see it for himself later.

“Only all the time. Sorry, I had to run from the pool.”

“you with paps and undyne?”

“Mhmm, you should come join us.”

“wish i could,” he sighs, the corners of his mouth dropping the slightest bit.

“Everything ok?” Your concern is palpable and you must have picked up on his frustration.

“eh, coulda gone better. i’ll tell ya ‘bout it later.”

“Ok, well…,” you pause. He waits, imagining your brain working. It brings an easy smile to his face and he closes his eye-sockets. “Ok, ok,” you bark out a laugh, trying to stifle them, “are you reading any books lately?”

He laughs too, confused. “um, maybe?”

“Is it about anti-gravity perhaps?” you suggest, chuckling still.

He hums, grinning broadly. “why, yes, i am.”

“I bet it’s impossible to put down.” His building chuckles deepen into a full-blown laugh and he hears you echo it. He also picks up Papyrus’ loud, high voice.

“YOU MEAN IMPASTABLE, NYEH HEH HEH!” Sans’ laughter grows, echoing joyfully through the hallway. You’re wheezing at this point, unable to say anything. If he could leave, he’d be there right now. He sighs once more, looking down the long hall and thinking that it’s probably about time to go back in.

Once you’re calm, you say, “You’ll be ok, baby. You’re halfway done.”

“i’ll be ready to see ya guys, that’s for sure.”

“I love you, Sans.” He grins, his soul warming, wonderful and hot, so unlike the cold fire he felt earlier.

“i love you too, babe. see ya later.”

“See ya, space cowboy,” you say before hanging up. He stares at his phone a minute, steeling his nerves once more. He walks back to the room.

\--------------

Sully stands from his chair, his nearly one-track mind narrowing even more as he hones in on Moore. He’s slow to anger. Someone really fucking has to try to piss him off. But when they do, they better watch out. It’s hard to save yourself when that happens. Lots of people have tried that’s for sure. He strides out of the room, following at a small distance behind Moore and the others. When they disappear, he lunges forward, grasping Moore’s arm to throw him into the marble wall. Moore grunts and is about to yell out in anger, but Sully points a large finger in his face with roaring fire in his emerald eyes. It commands Moore to ‘shut the fuck up now.’

He does.

“I know your fucking game, Moore. What you’re playing at. I’ve seen it before. But let me tell you, I know how to ruin the fun.” Sully drops his hand, but he’s no less intimidating, towering over the senator. Moore presses back against the wall, trying to get as far away from Sully as possible without inciting his ire. He glares hatefully up at his tall, broad form though. “That little stunt you pulled this morning with the garage?” Moore opens his mouth to deny any claim, but Sully cuts him off with a scathing look. “Don’t even play dumb, I know it was you. You can toy around with me all you want, but as soon as you put _my_ men in danger? Not to mention our guests? A _child_?” Sully’s vision swims in red for a moment, his anger getting the better of him. He doesn’t see Sans walk out, but Moore does, his dark eyes flitting about for a way out.

Moore manages to hiss, “Why do you want this, O’Sullivan? Does it hit too close to home for you?”

He growls, “Don’t even _pretend_ to know what I’ve been through. I’ll fight for what’s right no matter where I am. I’m warning you here and now, Moore. Back. Off. Or I will make you.”

Moore scowls haughtily up at him. “You can’t do anything to me. I’m a senator. You’re just a faceless soldier.”

Sully’s lips twitch into a small smile. “You underestimate the value _your_ government has placed in me. You’d be surprised what I can get away with, Moore.” His face hardens once more and Moore stands silent. “Don’t even think about trying anything else. I’ll be watching.” He turns heel and leaves Moore standing seething against the wall.

He enters the room the same time as Sans does. He looks down at the short, stocky skeleton. Sully wasn’t lying when he said he was glad he’s here now. Sans has been a tall glass of water to the proceedings, refreshing and smart. Someone Sully is willing to put his hard won trust in.

Sans asks conversationally, “everything swell?”

Sully responds with an easy smile, “Peachy keen. He just dropped something is all.”

“like his guard?” Sans quips, raising a curious eyebrow.

Sully chuckles. “Yeah, guess you could say that.” Sans just nods and goes back to his chair. Sully sits in his own, thinking. Is Moore really stupid enough to try something else? He watches the thin senator take his place down the table, shaken but stone-faced. Yes. Yes he is. Sully thinks back to his unwarranted attack towards Sans earlier. He’s racist, sure, but…he spent a lot of energy and time prodding at Sans’ partner. Enough to worry Sully. He knows Moore’s kind. Once he sees a weak point, he’ll try to weasel his way in any way he can. Sully folds his arms across his broad chest.

Time to branch out.

\-----------

You shuffle on your clothes after toweling off your hair with a happy swish. It’s so nice to go swimming again and hang out with some friends. You wish Sans could be here, but there’s always another day.

“Are you ready, friend?” Papyrus asks, excited grin stretching his face. You nod, returning it. He grabs your hand, pulling you outside.

You turn back and yell, “See ya Undyne!”

“BYE UNDYNE!” Papyrus shouts, waving frantically.

“See ya later punks!!” She yells back with a loud whoop. You laugh and get into Papyrus’ car, the engine roaring to life.

“Do you think Sans is back?” he asks. You look at your phone, frowning in concentration as you think.

“I dunno. Maybe. But hey, I have an idea, Paps.”

“I LOVE IDEAS.”

“Sans was sounding a bit down. Whatcha say we grab Grillby’s to go for him?” Papyrus nods, determined, as he bounces in his seat.

“That is a great idea! My brother does love Grillby’s,” he agrees, only slightly irked by that fact. You chuckle and then hold on for dear life as he puts pedal to the metal, taking off for the bar. It doesn’t take long, thankfully, and you step onto the solid ground, gratitude flying around your dizzy head. You and Papyrus walk inside, waving to monsters you both recognize and don’t recognize. It’s pretty sparse today, and Grillby stands behind the counter, polishing glasses to pass the time. He looks up and you see him smile.

“Hello, ___, Papyrus. What brings you here today?” He leans, looking behind you. “And without Sans?”

“We would like three burgers and fries to go!” Papyrus chirps.

“Sans is in a meeting,” you say, quieter as you step closer to the bar. Grillby’s flames waver and flicker in understanding.

“Are they going ok?” he asks, setting down the rag and glass.

You trust Grillby so you say, “Yeah, for the most part. They’ve butted heads though.” Your face falls.

Grillby crackles, noticing. “Good thing he’s a numbskull,” he says, trying to lift your spirits back up. You laugh and pull out your phone, a huge grin on your face.

“Can I get you to say that again so I can record it? Sans would be _so_ proud.” Grillby’s flames hiss as he laughs and wags his finger, disappearing into the back without another word. Papyrus just stands there, arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his skull. You pat his arm and throw him a wide, unapologetic smile. After a while Grillby pops out with a bag full of food. Papyrus takes it and you pay, tipping him well per the usual.

“Give Sans my best,” Grillby says, sibilant voice sliding into the air as easily as smoke. “And take care,” he adds seriously, his white eyes flashing behind his glasses.

“We will. Same for you,” you say, just as genuine.

“Bye Grillby!” Papyrus yells as you both walk out and head home.

Maybe it’s just you, and maybe you were too superstitious when you were a kid, but you can’t shake the feeling that something might happen. That if you pay enough attention to the seemingly innocuous words of caution and banal meetings, you’ll attract unwanted and harmful situations. Ones you can’t avoid, no matter what you do. Your mind fights your heart, rationality trying to win over. They’re just words, everybody says be careful for things every day. But…you’re just not sure right now. Maybe Sans can help put your worries to rest. Actually…maybe Papyrus can too.

“Hey Paps.”

“Yes, human?” he asks.

“Do…do you think something’s gonna happen?” you ask, fingers fiddling with your jacket.

He stiffens in surprise. “Like what? Something bad, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

He looks ahead, face drawn and serious. “I do not know. We will keep each other safe though,’ he says determined. You’re quiet, staring out the window, keeping the varied, vivid, and altogether equally terrifying scenarios from taking over your mind. Until a long bony hand wraps warmly around yours. You meet a kind grin and even kinder eyes. “Do not worry, friend.” 

You try not to.

You and Papyrus arrive back at their place before Sans. You’re glad, you wanted to be there when he gets home. You and the tall skeleton brother unpack the food and talk to dispel your earlier worries, waiting for Sans. You don’t have to wait long, because you both lift your heads when you hear a car pull up and then a wonderfully familiar pop ring out in the house. You and Papyrus bolt to the entrance of the kitchen, yelling at the top of your lungs, “WELCOME BACK!” You laugh when you see Sans’ bewildered face, caught in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. The stiffness melts from him as he smiles. You wrap an arm around Papyrus’ chest, dangling off it as you wave.

“We got Grillby’s for you!” Papyrus shouts, picking you up in a bone-crushing hug when he looks to Sans. He grins, broad and grateful.

“you guys are the best.”

“Duh,” you say with a smile, head lolling to get a better glimpse of him over Papyrus’ arms. He finally sets you down, trading you for Sans. Sans laughs, patting his brother’s back. When he lets him go, Sans turns to you. You step close and throw your arms over his shoulders. His wrap around your waist, holding you tight. He breathes out a heavy exhale and his bones rattle from the dissipating stress. His teeth press against your neck in a long kiss and you giggle your appreciation. It gives you some ideas for later, but that can wait.

He releases you and you grab his hand. “Come get some food,” you say, pulling him into the kitchen. All three of you sit down and dig in.

“How was the meeting?” Papyrus asks.

Sans looks up, smile quickly turning to a disappointed frown. “not so great this time,” he responds. His voice is low, dejected and you think angry as well.

“Moore?” you ask, brow stitching together.

“who else.” Sans sighs, leaning back. He sounds thin now, stretched, someplace far away where the lights of his eyes follow. It worries you more than you’d like. “i like to think people can change sometimes, but…i dunno.” Your hand slips into his and you’re relieved to see his pupils brighten as they flick over to you. He squeezes. “he was a real ass today.”

Papyrus frowns deeply, confused. “What did he do?”

“first, we had to enter from the front ‘cause the garage was blocked off. there were lots of people…,” he trails off for a moment. You sit in stunned silence, becoming furious at the possibility of them being hurt. “pretty sure he was behind that. then, he kept interrogating me about ___,” he mutters, upset.

You look at Papyrus, wide-eyed and sharing his surprise. “Why would I need to come up at all?” you ask.

“he just wants to get under my skin. good thing i don’t have any, huh? heh…,” he chuckles completely without mirth, staring down at the table, lost in thought. You have a lot more questions, and are about to ask them, but he speaks again. “think sully ripped him a new one though, which is great news,” he says, uplifted a bit. Your smile comes back in increments, though still wary. You push your other thoughts to the wayside.

“Did you snoop around?” you ask.

“a bit. found out he’s from ireland.”

Your brows raise. Now _that’s_ interesting. It gives you enough of a starting point to research that’s for sure. “I’ll start digging,” you say with a smirk. He returns it weakly as Papyrus gets up to clean. He leans toward you, looking you in the eyes with his thumb stroking your hand.

“need help paps?” he asks. You cock an eyebrow.

“No, brother, it is alright. You both should go watch TV and I will join you soon!” Sans gets up without another word, tugging your hand for you to follow him. He’s acting a little weird and it’s starting to twist your heart and stomach with worry and concern. He plops down onto the couch, turning on the TV, dragging you down with him. You look over. Your hand rises to grasp his chin and turn it toward you.

“Hey, tell me what’s up.”

One corner of his mouth twitches up in a small smile. “that obvious?”

“Kinda,” you say, smirking.

He sighs now, grasping your hand. “we…we need to be really careful. ya need to keep an eye out, ok?”

“Is it really so bad?” you ask, your heart thumping painfully in your chest.

His dim eyes turn to you fully, grabbing your attention. “he was relentless, ___. i don’t know what he’s willing to do, but it worries me. it’s like he had his sights on you,” he growls. Your hand drops, confusion and stress building bit by bit inside your mind.

“What did he say?” You just want something, the need eating you inside out; any sort of answer will do.

He gives you a sidelong look. “more about the marriage stuff.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “That’s real fucking original.” A multitude of feelings pass through your soul that you have no idea what to do with. Sans looks back to where Papyrus is puttering about the kitchen.

“i just…have a bad feeling is all.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t. He might later when you have more privacy. You hope so at least.

“You too, huh?” you half-laugh even though you could barely call it that.

His hand tightens on yours. “whatdya mean?”

“Just had a weird feeling today, too,” you say, remembering how you felt talking to Grillby.

His arm slides around your waist, pulling you up against his side. “let’s hope we’re both wrong.

You smile, desperate to get rid of that suffocating feeling. “Well, I’ve been known to be wrong before.” He chuckles and presses his mouth to your cheek, sliding down to your jaw. The drowning feeling starts to dissipate. Papyrus strides in and jumps on the couch, jostling you two. You laugh and snuggle between them, calming down your heart and mind and soul. Trying to just enjoy the quiet moment together. Your head rolls back on the cushions, coming to rest on Sans’ skull. You feel his hand flex on your waist, warming. The heat trickles through you, spreading deep into you. You smile. You know that warmth anywhere. Sans’ magic. Its fingers soothe and reassure, finding your soul and comforting it. You close your eyes and breathe out a soft sigh. Sans hugs you close. You three watch TV until it’s dark; long shadows creep through the living room, hovering silently over the sleepy forms. Papyrus is down for the count, sprawled across the couch. You’re not terribly far behind him, leaning into Sans’ embrace.

Surprisingly, Sans is still awake. You blink groggily, looking up at his face. His sockets are lidded as they watch TV blindly. His pupils stray down to you, softening into passive orbs. “can i ask ya something?”

“No,” you murmur, nuzzling his shoulder again with a tired smirk. He huffs a small chuckle, throwing you a sardonic smile.

“babe,” he urges.

“Alright,” you acquiesce with a laugh, staring up at him.

He exhales, gathering his courage. “what are your feelings about marriage?” he asks finally, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen as your stomach drops, precipitous and unpleasant. It twists, your heart jumping to your throat. You sit up and his arm tightens as he looks at you, both confused and abashed. He says hurriedly, “don’t worry, i’m only wondering. i’d just…like to know so i can be prepared if it comes up again.” He scowls. “and it seems to come up all the fuckin’ time.” You smile weakly, your heightened anxiety lessening a bit. You just weren’t really expecting this conversation. Not now. And not ever, really.

“I…,” you trail off, hesitant. “I don’t really think it’s necessary?” Your shaky smile meets his increasingly intense and interested gaze. “We love each other, right? Why do we need a slip of paper and some rings to prove it? Besides maybe financial stuff” you whisper, “But I don’t think we need to. Everybody who matters already knows and recognizes it.” His hand quiets your fidgeting ones, caressing them. His face is open and understanding. Wiped clean of any apprehension or judgement. “I don’t know what the future is gonna be like. What I’m gonna be like. So it’s possible. But…there’s no rush.” You smile. “I like to keep it loose.” You stare down at his hand twining in yours. Your voice becomes more forceful now, a hushed hiss. “I’ll be damned if I let anyone make me do anything _I_ don’t wanna do though.” Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “And that means being some spearhead symbol for monster-human marriage. I’d only do it for us, _no one_ else.” You stare at each other for a minute, until he breaks the rising tension with a warm chuckle. “Don’t leave me hangin’. Did I just destroy your hopes and dreams?” you ask wryly, more serious than you’d like to be. You hope you didn’t.

He leans close, pressing his mouth to yours. Your lips slide, insistent, needing that contact after everything. When you pull back, his pupils and face are relieved.

“agreed, babe. i’m perfectly happy with the status quo. whatever you want is what i want too. you’re right. we don’t have to prove anything.” He kisses you again, murmuring, “you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

You close your eyes, sighing. “Exactly.”

He laughs against your lips now. “any other hopes and dreams you wanna destroy?” he teases.

You cringe, smiling guiltily against his teeth. “I’m sorry if you ever wanted to be a dad?”

“what?” he laughs louder, incredulous, as he pulls back. Papyrus stirs and you throw an accusing look at Sans, placing a finger against your smiling lips. He raises his brows, waiting for you.

“Kids are hard and pregnancy is gross and scary to me.”

He chuckles again, hugging you. “well, you’ll be happy to know i don’t wanna be a dad anyway. tell me your thoughts though. i like it when you rant,” he whispers, kissing you briefly. You snort. But you humor him, looking at the flashing blue glow of the TV. It’s a bit hypnotic, drawing you in with its siren song while you talk.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with kids or having them. It’s just not for me. But…I always felt there was a severe lack of acceptance for those who don’t want kids. Like you’re wrong for not wanting that. For wanting different things for your life. You’re weird ‘cause you’re weirded out by it. You have to ‘cause it’s your duty, or biology. Fuck that, man. Fuckin’ stupid.” You place your finger on his sternum, poking in time with your words. “Plus. Kids. Are. Hard. No one tells you that. It may sound selfish, but I don’t want that responsibility.”

“’s not selfish. it’s smart. i’m not ready for that responsibility either. not sure if i ever will be.” He bends to kiss your jaw. "you're not wrong for wanting what you want by the way. no one should fault ya for that. i certainly won't."

You smile, counting the bones of his phalanges with your own fingers. “Wish everyone was so understanding.”

“’s what i’m here for,” he says, chuckling.

“What about you? Any hopes or dreams? Can't be the only one destroying tonight,” you razz. He huffs a laugh. 

“nah, not really....” He pauses a long while before admitting, “was easier that way.” He lifts your hand to his mouth, his teeth pressing to the skin. It tingles, despite the subdued sadness that weaves its way through you. You’re…not entirely sure it’s just your own. It’s a stillness, a hitch in the breath, the knowing calm between waves. It wraps around your soul with a gentle nudge before it passes. “you’ve exceeded my expectations,” he whispers, his smile broad and sincere now. You move, kissing him, pouring your love into it, soft and tender. Your hand lays on his cheekbone. He hums in contentment. “let’s put paps to bed, then ourselves, babe.”

“You got it, skeleman.”

\------------

After the events of last night and the meeting, you all decided you needed a day out. You’re walking with Papyrus and Sans downtown, killing some time before stopping by Grillby’s to say hey. Papyrus runs about, excitedly pointing out things in the windows and various antique stores that he’s never seen before. You’re laughing, trying to explain things you’ve seen and making up stuff for the things you haven’t in good-natured fun. Papyrus is quick to catch on when you bullshit though. You’re a terrible liar. Sans watches, smiling, hands happily placed in his hoodie. Everything starts feeling better, the future brighter and less frightening.

Until it doesn’t.

And it all starts with a wrinkled, foreign hand lay on your shoulder, turning you sharply.

You face the rude offender, poised to yell in indignation. It’s definitely not the face you thought you'd meet. It’s an old woman. You’re taken aback, mouth agape as you swallow your building anger. But it doesn’t stop you from removing her hand strongly. Sans sidles next to your side, taking hold of your hand. His grin is cold, on guard. It turns frigid and grim, while you’re set ablaze, when she takes one look at Sans and Papyrus and shoots the ugliest glare you’ve ever seen. You trying stepping back, but she attempts to steer you away from them.

You jerk away, saying angrily, “Don’t touch me again.”

“Dear, what are you doing then?” she asks, bewildered.

“Trying to enjoy my day? So leave us be.” You turn away again, but feel her claw-like hand grab your arm. You want to scream, you're so wound up.

“I’ve seen them on TV, you’re not with them are you?” she demands.

You yank your arm out of her grip, rapidly losing your temper. “I said _don’t_ touch me.”

Papyrus steps up and Sans draws you close. “i’d listen to ‘em,” Sans says, voice deep and threatening. You can feel his tension and his growls reverberating and vibrating through you. You squeeze his hand and he returns it, bones scraping against your skin. You hope he doesn’t lose his shit. Or your own, to be perfectly honest. It's an uphill struggle, that's for sure.

“Could you please go like they asked?” Papyrus says, god, so much politer than these people should ever EVER deserve.

The woman ignores him, as if he was nothing. Sans is rigid beside you. “It’s ok, don’t be afraid, you don’t have to be around them anymore,” she croons loudly as she reaches for you again. You step back and maneuver yourself, Sans, and Papyrus away from the fucking deranged old woman.

“C’mon guys, let’s go,” you say, not letting them interject in any fashion. This is exactly what you’d been waiting for ever since Sans joined the meetings. What you were afraid of, what you’d been expecting, _feeling_ the past couple days. It seems your intuition was right. Sans says nothing, his face harsh, only wrapping an arm around your waist as they fall into step beside you. You need it. You’re shaking from your anger. You wring your hands, trying to stop the trembling from shooting straight into your chest like it desires wantonly, carelessly, viciously.

"are you ok?" Sans asks, insistent, fury fighting concern for a place in his deepening voice. 

"Ask me in a few," you say, frantically holding yourself together. He just hugs you tighter.

And then another shout echoes out in the street, “Hey, that’s the monster from the talks!”

“Shit,” you say at the same time Sans says, “ _fuck_.”

“That your piece of ass, monster?” the man yells.

Sans grimaces in fury and his pupils disappear entirely. You, on the other hand, become incensed.

“Can you teleport?” you ask, desperate.

He grinds his teeth, seething. “asgore warned me not to. now that i’m part of the meetings.” You groan low in your throat. Dammit.  

You see his eye flicker in barely contained rage between you and Papyrus. Papyrus is uncharacteristically stone-faced, ushering you both quickly to the blissfully glowing sign of Grillby’s just up ahead. As long as you can get inside without starting something, it’ll be fine. You hope. But you hear the pounding of shoes coming fast from across the street and you whirl around, angling your body in front of Sans, pulse skyrocketing in fear. He hisses in frustration, holding you close. His fingers dig into your side and you almost wince.

“ _paps_ ,” he growls, looking to his brother for support.

Papyrus nods and steps in front of you. You grab the back of his shirt, pulling him. “Papyrus, don’t,” you say forcefully. He doesn’t budge. The man who’d been yelling at all three of you stops dead in his tracks, along with a couple of others, the towering skeleton painting a powerful and daunting picture you imagine.

“Leave,” Papyrus commands. Your heart drops, fingers slipping from his sweater in your alarm.

The man steps back, but yells at you now. You throw a caustic glare his way, despite your adrenaline-ridden body screaming at you to run, just _run_. “Hey, why the fuck are you with them? Fucking get with a real man, a human for christ’s sake!” Your knuckles creak as you bite your tongue. Sans’ follow suit, pulling you back and against him. The other men jeer and taunt, circling around to the side. You continue to say nothing even though you want so much to retort, to lash out and protect. Your knuckles are white from effort, your vision red, narrowing. You barely even notice others milling about indecisive on the sidelines. The man in front pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of you before any of you can do anything about it. He points to Sans now, his grin cruel. “I know their face now. And so will everyone else. This is what happens when you fuck a human.” His hand swings over to you. “Same for you. It’s what you get, what you deserve for being a whore.”

Sans extricates himself from you, snarling, “don’t you fucking _dare_.” You turn and put yourself in Sans’ line of vision. Fuck, it’s so hard to meet his livid gaze, those depthless sockets. But you do it. You hope he doesn’t see that cold fear trickle down from your eyes to your spine.

“No,” you whisper. “Stop, we can’t, let’s just go.”

He growls again and is about to spit something else out, when you see one of the other men on the side make a move, lunging toward you. Everyone seems to jump into action. Papyrus throws his arm out, Sans pushes you behind him, his eye raging to life, not having enough time to teleport. He forgets all about Asgore’s warning. Screw it. You and Papyrus are all that matter. He starts to brace himself. But finds he doesn’t need to.

Because the man is on the ground, out like a light.

And hunched between is a bear of a man, with a bear of a dog, growling, by his side.

“What the fuck?” you say, aghast. You turn to an equally shocked Sans. He draws you close and your hands fist in his hoodie.

“sully,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just chattin' about whatever.
> 
> *cough*I'msosorrythisislate*cough*
> 
> Some life stuff came up that put me really behind. I sorry. So this is longer for y'all.
> 
> <33
> 
> Humblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	43. Makin' Friends

So that’s Sully.

Your jaw drops as you stare. He’s huge. Definitely taller than six foot, maybe only a bit shorter than Papyrus. But sturdy, barrel-chested, and thick. Built like a brick wall. His large fists are raised like a boxer, clenched, shifting his weight around with ease. He looks like he could kill someone. With the way he decked that man—and how he’s not moving—maybe he already has. His hair is almost as red as Undyne’s, but darker, more auburn. An earthy, rusty, burned red. You can’t get a good look at his face yet as he still has his broad back facing you. But his is a voice you’re sure never to forget. It’s deep and full of confident mirth and life as he warns with the barest hint of an Irish accent, “I wouldn’t try it, boys, or you’ll end up like your very weak friend, here.”

The two other grimy men yell and dart forward with rage and hurtful intent in their eyes. But Sully’s dog, this massive ashy-grey wolfhound, starts snarling viciously, squaring off, tail swishing low. One of the men pauses, caught like a rabbit in the gaze of the growling dog, their maw wide and fangs bared and threatening. He starts backing up and the dog snaps their jaws, forcing them farther away. The growls send chills down your spine, taking you out of this modern world into a far off time where only predator and prey mattered. Where it was kill or be killed.

The other man, the one who started it all, ignores the dog, advancing on Sully, his own fists raised. Papyrus starts backing up, pushing you and Sans away and towards the wall of Grillby’s. You and Sans clutch each other tighter as Sully and the man face off.

“You’re gonna get it, asshole,” the man hisses.

Sully barks out a laugh, “I’d really love to see you try, tiny man.” That only incenses the man and you think that was probably Sully’s plan all along. He tries throwing a haymaker, but Sully sidesteps effortlessly, swinging his arm around to brutally open-palm slap the man across the back of the head. He yelps and stumbles to his knees, scrambling to put distance between him and Sully, who’s roaring with laughter. The other man has since run off, leaving Asshole #1 by himself, utterly outmatched. As Sully turns to follow him, your wide, shocked eyes finally catch his face. The freckled laugh lines crease his intensely green eyes and grinning, bearded mouth, belying the heightened focus you see there. His eyes glance and meet yours. You’re caught, examined, undone then remade under his scrutiny and you see his grin fall slightly. It’s only the briefest of moments and then he turns back to the man. Your knuckles are white from gripping Sans’ hoodie.

And then the man pulls a knife, his contemptuous smile gleaming as cruelly as the blade in his hand.

The crowd surrounding Sully gasps and withdraws, riling up in discontent. Papyrus pushes all three of you farther back. Sans stiffens around you and a cold, empty, endless wave of fear and foreign rage fills your body and soul, overwhelming you, dragging you down, down, down and you know now for a fact that it’s not you.

_Knife…_

_Blood?_

_Dust._

You blink, reeling, unsure of what’s happening. You feel numb and _too_ alive all at once, unsure of your _self_ , like you’re in a dream you can’t quite place, except you almost can because you’ve dreamt it before, not so long ago. But—but that was only a dream….

_Right?_

You rip your eyes away, desperate to take care of Sans. His pupils are long gone, deathly dark sockets staring at the knife. Your hand lays strong and forceful on his jaw, turning his skull to face you. He hardly budges.

“Sans, baby, look at me, alright? Look at _me_ ,” you urge. His skull angles towards you. Still dark. Still empty. “Don’t look at it, you’re alright, I’m here.” You step into his line of vision, but it’s hard because his arms don’t want you to move at all. “Breathe,” you whisper, glancing back at Sully. He’s not laughing anymore, straightening up to his full height and turning his body sideways.

“You’ve made a big mistake,” Sully says, his deep voice rumbling and threatening. His dog hovers behind him, pacing and growling.

The man just sneers, stalking towards Sully, hefting the switchblade. He moves to lunge but suddenly he’s caught by a couple of pairs of strong arms. Sans flinches, crushing you to him, hand flying back to grab at the brick wall. Two men from the crowd have the man in a hold, knocking the knife from his grip. It clatters to the ground, skittering across the asphalt where Sully picks it up, shocked. The men drag him off, throwing him bodily away. He tumbles, backpedaling. He finally sprints away when a violently flickering orange and yellow shape strides past, blazing and righteous.

Grillby.

The two men glance back before melting into the crowd. Before you can even get a chance to say thank you. You bite your lip, frowning but relieved. Your attention snaps back to Sans.

“It’s gone, Sans. It’s ok, it’s taken care of,” you murmur. Your fingers stroke his cheekbones and you feel like you’re about to start crying, but you can’t, you can’t, you have to be here for him. Finally, bit-by-bit that drowning feeling lessens, his hands no longer like claws in your side, your mind and soul no longer being held under. You sigh in relief when you see you pupils come back, though they’re dim. They flick up to Grillby, who ushers all of you inside the bar, with some unacknowledged cheers from onlookers.

As soon as you’re inside, you turn and throw yourself at Sans, hugging him close, allowing yourself this moment of weakness, hands fisting in the softness of his hoodie. He crushes you to him, his arms a safe cage. You deflate, sagging against each other. Exhausted.

“thank you,” he whispers roughly in your ear. You say nothing, only squeezing.

He stands at your left side as Grillby and Sully walk up to you and the skeleton brothers. Sans is still quiet and seething. You feel the absence of that dark fear and you’re thankful for it. It was suffocating. Papyrus is more or less subdued. You hate seeing him that way. Both of them.

“I’m sorry for that,” Grillby says as he pushes up his glasses, sibilant voice morose. “Are you all ok?”

“Yes, thank you Grillby and…,” Papyrus waits as he looks expectant at Sully. He claps his large hands together as he waves, broad smile splitting his bearded face.

“Right! I’m Miles, but you can call me Sully, if ya like. Was hoping to be introduced more formally and less, uh…violently I suppose. I work with Sans here,” he gestures good-naturedly to the skeleton at your side. Whose arm hasn’t left your waist. He steps forward, shaking Papyrus’ and Grillby’s hands before extending it to you. Could he be more congenial? And totally unaffected by what just happened? His demeanor is so friendly and engaging that you can’t help but take his hand, shaking firmly. It’s calloused, warm, and strong, nearly swallowing your own.

“I’m ___. Nice to meet you. And thank you,” you say, smiling but with eyes as serious as a heartattack. His green ones meet yours as he nods, crooked smile widening.

“Lovely,” he says as he winks at Sans. Your hands are bumped by the large, shaggy, iron-grey head of his wolfhound. “Ah! And couldn’t forget my Morna,” he chuckles as he pats her back. Morna noses your hand, panting and looking every bit as happy as can be to receive the pets you give her.

You laugh finally, the ice and fire in your heart dissipating. Sans’ hand smooths along your hip. You wonder if he can feel it. You don’t even have magic and you could feel so much more than you had bargained for earlier. “Hey there sweetheart. You were really brave weren’t you? Thank you,” you whisper, smoothing out her scraggly ears, placing a soft kiss to the top of her head. Her tail goes bananas. She looks at you with eyes as dark and as intelligent as you’ve ever seen in a dog, tongue lolling out before licking your own face. You sputter out a small laugh, scratching her head. You catch Sans and Sully shake hands, exchanging a few thankful words and glances. Morna, to your surprise, sticks close by your side, leaning her long body against your thigh.

“Well let’s sit and have a few after that business,” Sully says cheerfully. A great idea. You could use a drink. Or several.

You all move to a booth, sliding in one after another. Sans sits next to you, that arm pulling you close to his side. It doesn’t bother you though. You need the contact just as much as he does right now. A huge, wriggling mass shuffles past your legs, causing you, Papyrus, and Sans to jump. It’s Morna. She’s laid her long head on your thigh as she settles in by your side.

“Sorry about her, she just seems to know when people are havin’ a rough day,” Sully apologizes as he sits beside Papyrus.

“It’s fine, she’s really sweet. Very smart,” you say, almost to her as much as Sully.

“She likes ya. And she’ll like ya even more now you’re complimentin’ her,” he chuckles, smiling.

“Good,” you say, smoothing the low slope right between her eyes. She gives a low, contented whoof in response.

“Thank you for helping. You are very strong!” Papyrus says to Sully.

He laughs, a nice, boisterous one. It makes you smile, always appreciating a good laugh. “You just gotta know where to hit.” He looks over to Sans, who hasn’t really said much of anything still, except squeezing you tighter. Your worry replaces the mild relief you felt earlier. Maybe Sully notices the look on his face, but he says, “Papyrus was it? Would ya mind helpin’ me get a few drinks for the table? A couple extra hands would be great.” Papyrus nods enthusiastically as he follows Sully up and out of the booth and over to the bar.

Sans sighs and turns to you, his dim pupils searching your face. “are you ok?”

You shrug, looking down at the table. “As good as can be I guess. We expected this.”

He frowns, fingers pressing your hip. “doesn’t make it any less horrible,” he mutters.

“Well, are you alright?” you ask. “‘Cause… you were _not._ I felt it.” He looks to you quickly, sockets wide.

“you felt that?” he asks breathlessly. You nod and your hands fidget, shaking, trying to forget that smothering, viscous dread that wrung you inside out. A fear that extends so far into itself that you wonder with budding horror how Sans ever dealt with it on his own. Sans leans forward, placing his elbows on the table and hanging his head in his hands. His bony fingers scratch his skull in weary anxiety. You rub his back, offering your love and support, even if no words come. Morna noses your right hand, cold but friendly.

“i’m sorry, ___. never meant for you to feel that…,” he mutters.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just sorry you _did_ , you know? Just glad Sully showed up.” You sigh. “Like a fuckin’ fairy godmother or some shit.” Sans huffs out a small chuckle.

“was convenient, wasn’t it,” he asks quietly, pondering the coincidence. You hum an agreement, tracing small patterns into his spine and ribs. The contact helps your own nerves too. You fall into quiet contemplation, trying to unwind. You feel so unlike yourself. It would be so much easier, better even, if you could fight back. Say something, _anything_. But no. They kick you while you’re down and you can’t even defend yourself. Morna whines at either your lackluster pets or attitude, you’re not sure. You put her anxieties to rest with the weight of your hand. “babe?” Sans asks. You meet his concerned gaze.

“I just wish I could defend myself. Defend you.”

He doesn’t say anything, not at once at least. His hand takes your free one up, fingers weaving together. “i know. i want to too. but…we can’t, like you said,” he forces out. You sigh and nod, leaning against him. “sorry if i scared you,” he whispers.

You groan, hitting your head against the backboard. “Was hoping you didn’t see that.”

“even if i couldn’t see, _i_ could feel it,” he says, and his arm slips around your waist again, rubbing up and down your side, the friction and his magic warming it.

“Bah, I guess.” You point at him, fire lighting up in your eyes, reigniting you, if only for a moment. “I wasn’t really though, it was only for a second!” you hiss, but not without a slight smile on your face. And that breaks his scowl.

“you’ve got guts, much more than i do, babe.” He leans over to kiss your cheek. “my spitfire.”

“Your spitfire,” you agree, turning to meet his mouth with your lips. You feel Morna’s tail start wagging against your feet.

“Two for us, my tall skeleton friend, and two for the knockout couple to start!” Sully crows happily, sliding over a couple of beers. “Figured you could use somethin’ a bit stronger right now,” he says with a kind smile and knowing wink.

“You figured right. Thanks,” you chuckle, wrapping your still unsteady hands around the bottle. You clear your throat, meeting his gaze. You stare at him for a long moment, sizing him up. His posture is relaxed and carefree; his face worn, but full of vigor, laughter, and a kind of gentleness born from always looking out for others you think. Though his emerald-toned eyes show all of these, you think you can tell that he’s seen some things. Things you’ll probably never know or understand. They just have an air of being on guard. But not…towards you. Toward the world maybe. You speak up after a minute, raising your bottle in shaking hand for a toast. “To Sully. Thank you for helping us,” you say quietly, sincerely. His eyes widen as a small smile lifts his bearded face. Your bottles clatter together. Your brow furrows, focusing to dispel the disquiet in your grip as you take a long pull. Your trembling hand drops to lay on Morna’s head and she whines, talking in not so many words, curling closer to you. You wish you could _just stop shaking_. Sans has caught on, feeling your tremors. His hand rubs your waist again, warmer this time. A deep breath. It helps.

“you’re ok, babe,” Sans whispers, low so only you can hear.

“I’m ok. We’re ok,” you repeat.

His hand continues while you sip your beer. Morna scoots closer and your fingers find work, threading through the wiry fur.

“really though,” Sans says to Sully, “thanks. was a good thing you were there.”

He waves his large hand smiling. “I’m just glad me and Morna decided to take a walk today.” Another borrowed feeling trickles its way into you as you watch the three of them. Suspicion.

“I’m just worried they may come back to take it out on Grillby,” you say softly.

“Don’t worry. They won’t,” he says, taking a swig of his beer.

You chuckle and raise a brow, glancing at Sans before saying, “Well that was vague and confident.”

Sully barks out a laugh himself, rubbing his auburn beard and smiling broadly. “’Spose it was.”

You don’t have a lot of patience left to beat around the bush today. So you lean forward to place your forearms on the table, looking him straight in the eye. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to know just who saved us.” You hold up a hand when he’s about to respond. “And if you say ‘I already told you my name,’ lemme just stop you right there,” you smirk wryly.

Sans chuckles next to you and Sully laughs, “Good guess. Really know how to get straight to the point, huh?” He winks at you and Sans. “’Preciate that.” He sighs, rolling the bottle in his hands. “Well, you know I work with Sans, but I’m sure you want more than that huh?” You nod. Sans and Papyrus listen intently. “Now I can’t tell ya everything, understand?” Another nod. “Work for the government. Military. That’s all ya really need to know.”

That’s not surprising, not with what you saw him do today. You wish you could know more, but you have _something_ at least now. You have a place and an occupation you can work with.

“Thank you,” you say, genuine.

He nods. “Any more questions?”

A smile quirks your lips. “Only if I can feel like I’m gonna get a straight answer.”

He chuckles and lifts his beer in salute. “I await them with bated breath.” He leans forward now, addressing all of you. “Now, does this type of thing happen often?”

“Not often,” Papyrus offers.

Sans speaks up, too. “it’s happened before, but not like this.” He fiddles with his bottle. “expect it’s ‘cause of the meetings.”

Sully looks at Sans while he talks, quiet at he listens. He exhales out of his nose. “Guess we have Moore to thank for that.”

“so he was the one behind the garage, huh?” Sans’ confirms, eye flashing. “fuckin’ figures,” he mutters and his hand clenches around your hip. Also not surprising. You play with Morna’s ears and she’s totally complacent, loving it. A grumbling whoof tumbles from her and you giggle, the sound lifting your spirits. Sully watches with a pleased smile crossing his face.

You ask to break the silence, “How long have you had her?”

“Since she was a pup. After I came here.” Your gaze flicks over, drawn to his happy one. “Reminds me of home,” he says.

“She’s great. And really well-behaved and protective. Consider me impressed,” you say, tilting your head to grin at her. She looks right back, her tail thumping against everyone’s legs. Sans sighs as he feels your sorrow and anger and anxiety shed away from your soul.

Sully laughs and takes a sip of his beer, a plan and suspiciously satisfied grin stealing through him. “Ya know, I get very busy some days. How would you like to take care of her for me sometimes? She’d enjoy the company I think,” he offers casually. That catches Sans’ attention.

An ecstatic grin splits your face. You lean towards Papyrus, whispering loudly, “Wanna help me take care of her when you’re not at work?”

“WOULD I!” He yells, moving to pet Morna as well. She squirms in excitement, loving all of this even if she doesn’t know what it means.

Sans looks to you, your face lighting up like fireworks. He can’t help but smile. He also can’t help but notice that Sully is up to something. He looks back over at the large man and thinks about the events of earlier. He just met you and Papyrus. Why would he let people he barely knows take care of his dog; a dog that he clearly loves and trusts like a partner? He saw the way they worked together. She was extremely protective.

Protective….

And then Sans figures it out.

Can’t very well have a detail follow you around everywhere, if he was even thinking that. Too conspicuous. But a dog…. And one as big, intelligent, and vigilant as Morna…. It’s almost just as effective. Sans stares hard at Sully, who meets it with dancing eyes. They share a conspiratorial smile.

You all sit for a while longer, getting another round. You’re starting to feel much better, and the alcohol definitely isn’t hurting. Sans seems to be much more relaxed as well. But it’s getting late in the day and you all rise to leave, waving, shouting, and hugging your thanks to Grillby on your way out.

Sully stretches with a groan and says, “Mind if I walked you to your car? I’d feel better about it.” None of you give any argument, no doubt feeling safer for his presence there. You know you do. Morna weaves her long, bulky body through the group, relaxed but on alert, matching Sully’s pace with wide, lumbering steps. You finally get to Papyrus’ car.

“Thank you again,” you say to Sully, giving Morna a few goodbye pets. She licks your face again and you laugh.

“My pleasure. We’ll be in touch, I’m sure,” he chuckles, grinning broadly.

Papyrus echoes your sentiment, shaking Sully’s hand vigorously. You both slip into the car and he starts it up. Sans takes a moment, looking up at Sully. He looks down at him, smiling softly, both their hands in their respective pockets.

“gotta lotta tricks up them sleeves, sully.” He looks pointedly down at the grinning and panting Morna.

He shrugs. “Everyone loves a good magic trick.”

“if it protects them then i’m not complainin’,” Sans says in low tones.

Sully’s expression grows serious, looking straight into Sans’ sockets. “Don’t worry, Sans. I won’t let anything happen to them. Not under my watch.”

“’preciate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH, thanks again to all of you for all your comments and support and general amazingness. Your excitement fuels /my/ excitement <3
> 
> DFTBA
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	44. Row, Row, Row Your Boat

A sigh you feel from the depths of your body and soul leaves your lips as you sit in the back behind Sans. Your senses wander; you feel the engine roar and hum, a beast underneath you. It’s kind of comforting. Like being lulled to sleep almost. The whir at least drowns everything else out pretty beautifully in its simplicity. You lean forward and place a hand on Papyrus’ shoulder. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“You alright, Paps?”

“Oh! Yes, human! I am fine. Are you both alright?” he asks now, concerned.

You hum an assent and Sans nods from his place in the front seat. You say, “Thank you, Paps. You were _really_ incredible out there.”

You think you see a sad smile ghost across his face before he cackles, “Nyeh! I only wish to help!”

“Well you did,” you say, smiling and squeezing his shoulder. You move back to rest your cheek along Sans’ headrest. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths, the smell of the car mixing with Sans’ reassuring pine and snow scent. It weaves around you as effortlessly as the fingers braiding through your hair now. Your lips quirk. You open your eyes to find yourselves pulling into their driveway. You all slip out of the car, trudging into the house. To your surprise, Papyrus heads right to the couch and falls face first onto it. You and Sans share a concerned, but not altogether unsurprised glance. You both feel the same way.

“You should go lay down too,” you say, looking at the dark circles under his sockets. He nods, not even putting up a fight.

“you comin’ too?” he asks, face hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you say, smiling softly. He brushes a quick kiss to your cheek before shuffling into his room. You hear the bed creak and a loud, groaning sigh sound out. You step over to the couch, pillowing your chin on your arms on the back, looking down at Papyrus.

“Hey Paps, need anything? Want me to warm up some spaghetti for you?” you ask.

A muffled yawn. “No thank you, human. I am not very hungry. Just sleepy.”

You smile. “Ok. Have a good nap.”

“You too!” he yells into the pillow, reaching with his long arm to pat your hands. You laugh and retreat into Sans’ room. The sight warms your worn heart. He’s laying much the same way as Papyrus; facedown, sprawled across his side of the bed. You remove your shoes and slide on top of the covers. Your body feels the exhaustion acutely, and you think maybe your mind does too, but it’s just not settling enough for you to slip into that sweet, encompassing, cleansing embrace. It’s alright though, because Sans does it for you. He turns onto his side, throwing an arm over your torso, drawing you close. Your head shifts, lips finding a restful home against his forehead while your hands come up to grasp his arm. Your soul beats steady within your chest now, regaining a semblance of its normal rhythm and song with Sans’ touch.

“that feels better,” he mutters to your shoulder, sockets still closed.

You chuckle. “Yeah? I think so too.”

“never felt your soul that way before,” he whispers.

You’re quiet a moment and he hugs you tighter. “Me either. I’d…never _felt_ so much before if that makes sense.” His thumb starts rubbing small, insistent circles into your chest. “And…and I saw.”

His sockets open, questions stitching the bones of his brow together.

“what do you mean?” he asks, voice stronger.

“I didn’t just feel you. I _saw_. Saw things.” He pushes himself up onto his elbow to stare down at you with flickering pupils. They seem at war. Torn deeply, cut to the quick by curiosity and apprehension. His scientific interest diametrically opposed to his concern for you. “But they were things I’d seen before.”

His eyes search yours. “hold on. you saw things, things you’re sure were not your own memories, right?” he asks.

“At first, yeah.”

“at first?” he prods.

“Right. Because then, I _did_ remember them. They were just flashes. Of—of knives, blood… dust. _Your_ memories. But…also mine. I’d _dreamt_ about that, Sans. How could I ever forget?” you explain. God, you hope he understands. Or helps _you_ understand. You’re well on your way to feeling like an insane fool.

“your nightmare,” he breathes, sockets widening and pupils flicking down to your chest. “i d-didn’t cause—”

Your hand raises to grip his jaw, forcing him to lock eyes with you. “Don’t you dare go down that road, ok? You didn’t cause me to have that nightmare.” He stares at you for a long while, the lights of his eyes threatening disappearance. Finally—thankfully—they settle.

“ok,” he says, a bit shaky. “ok, so…maybe our souls have gotten so used to each other that—that things bleed over. ‘cause we’d been able to feel some things before, right?” He dons his rational, scientific thinking cap and you’re relieved. This is much better than him freaking out or blaming himself.

“Sounds reasonable.”

He sits up now, crossing his legs and arms as he thinks. His eyes are alive with intrigue and unanswered questions now and you just lay back, reveling in it. There’s not a whole lot of other things you love more than seeing him at work. “souls protect themselves, especially when they feel attacked. when they’re most vulnerable. in our cases, when you had your nightmare and today when—when i felt attacked.” He stumbles a bit over his words, but soldiers on when your hand falls on his kneecap. “so i feel it’d be only rational for them to reach out to the thing closest to them for protection. but it’s not a one-way street.”

“Shared strengths and weaknesses at once.” He nods, rubbing his chin.

“interesting,” he murmurs to himself. “makes me a bit hopeful.”

You tilt your head. “How so?”

One corner of his mouth lifts into a small, abashed smile. “was worried you wouldn’t be able to hear or feel mine when i do touch yours.”

You crow happily, internally, when he says ‘when.’ Because it _is_ a when. It could never be an _if_ anymore. “’Cause I don’t have magic?” He nods, hand dropping to stroke yours lightly. “That _is_ reassuring. I’d like to be able to hear it too.” His smile grows. Another question comes to the fore; it burns white-hot and hungry in him.

But he doesn’t ask it.

He can wait.

He’s good at that.

And when it happens, he wants you to come to him with open arms and heart. Not before. It’s not something that should be regretted. This development only makes him more excited, wanting it even more. He’s not worried either. He knows you don’t have doubts; he’s seen your desire clear as daybreak in your soul when he draws it out. But you’re like him; you like to know what you’re getting into. And when he’s sufficiently provided you with all of the variables, that’s when he’ll know.

He looks forward to that day.

You rouse him from his thoughts. “So that was nice of Sully to let me take care of Morna sometimes.” You throw him a wry smirk. He chuckles. Nothing gets past you.

“yeah. she’s a good dog.”

“The best. _Very protective_ ,” you hint. Sans says nothing, only tracing small patterns in your hand. “You didn’t set that up did you?”

He shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. “nah. but i’m not complaining.” He looks at you pointedly, implying you shouldn’t either. You’re not. You’re just interested.

“Why would he do that? I can’t be that special enough to warrant his protection.” His eyes flash as they snap up to you.

“you’re special to _me_ ,” he says low and serious.

You squeeze his knee, appealing with your eyes. “I know, but neither of us are to him. Why go out of his way? That’s not his job. Maybe to protect you, but not me.” He frowns, wanting with every part of him to argue. But…he knows you’re right.

“i don’t know.” His fingers wrap around your hand now as he says, “he did say to me ‘loved ones are all that matter at the end of the day.’ thought that was a bit cryptic.”

You purse your lips in contemplation. “Seems a bit out of character for him.”

“yeah.”

“Maybe something happened to him back in Ireland.”

“it’s possible.”

You stretch, groaning and curling around Sans’ legs. “I’ll do some snoopin’.” He chuckles and rubs your back, laying back down and wrapping his arms around you. You yawn and snuggle into his chest, true fatigue taking hold of you now that some of your anxieties have been put to rest. Sans kisses the top of your head and follows you into sleep soon after.

\-------------

The next few days are…weird at the very least. Everything seems to be thrown off. Though all three of you have encountered hateful people, it’s never been like that before. You didn’t think it would be particularly easy to bounce back to normal. But you didn’t think it’d be so hard either. Papyrus seems to be doing ok. He’s definitely used to finding the best in every situation and it shows. With his unflappable optimism, he puts you and Sans more at ease. Sans….

That’s another story.

He was shaken by the experience more than you previously thought or he had even led you to believe. You love him to death, but his anxiety after everything happened has leaked through that careful façade he puts up. He hasn’t been overbearing; you sure as hell would let him know if he was. But you know it worries him when you leave for home or go out by yourself. You understand, _god_ , do you understand. You don’t like the idea of them being hurt nor do you like the idea of being hurt yourself. You try to help him, because you can _feel_ his worry. It’s palpable, you taste it; that bitter flavor that settles rancid on the back of your tongue, that sits fat and clotting on your soul. He’s just so meticulous; he’s mindful, wary of how much he lets you see and help with, especially now. It’s gotten better—and it’s a far cry from when you first met him—but you have been taking out your frustration and tangled feelings and frayed nerves out in the pool. You think Sans doesn’t mind you going there very much. Probably because he knows you need to get out and _do_ something to get your mind off of things. But also because Papyrus and Undyne are there.

And it’s the gym where you’re coming back from as you step exhausted through your front door. The only sounds littering your silent apartment is the shutting of the door and your belongings slipping from your hands and feet as you make your sluggish way to the couch. You lay down with a huff, savoring that smoke and fabric smell. Your burning muscles are thanking you for the rest too. You tug over a pillow and dig your face right into it, closing your eyes. Sans said he’d be over in a couple of hours. Despite all of the stress lately, you still crave his company. But it gives you plenty of time for a nap you think as you ease into blissful slumber.

The next thing you know, you’re being woken up. Rather roughly you think as you rub your bleary eyes. Clear sight reveals something that would otherwise be a balm to your soul, but only serves to stir it uncomfortably. It’s Sans. But he’s not happy. His pupils are dim, shoulders tense, mouth downturned as he glowers at you.

“Sans?” you say, voice thick.

“babe,” he replies, own voice low but brimming with frustration.

You sit up, on edge now. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“no. but it could’ve and that’s the problem.”

Your brow stitches together, confusion its thread, as you try to make sense of his words. You shake your head dumbly, saying, “Babe, I don’t know what you mean. You gotta help me out here.” You attempt a smile. “Throw me a bone maybe?”

He doesn’t laugh.

Your smile falls at the unusual lack of reaction. Instead he rakes a hand down his face and jerks a thumb to the door. “it was unlocked.”

Well, he did throw you something at least, because your mouth opens round in understanding. “Oh, I guess I forgot to lock it before falling asleep.” You’re about to relax, but Sans’ incredulous look stops you.

“you _guess_? that’s it?” You just stare at him, unsure of what to say. “how long were you sleeping for?”

You shrug, still confused as to why he’s acting this way. You’re also not quite in love with the dangerous path his tone is taking. “Maybe a couple of hours? I don’t know. Sans, why is it such a big deal?”

He shoves his fists forcibly into his pockets. “it’s a big deal because anybody could’ve come in. who knows what they would’ve done. and you would just be here, unaware. defenseless,” he adds, equal parts irked and concerned.

You sit straighter, spine as tense as his stance. “I’m sorry, ok?”

He moves his hands quickly from his pockets to his face as he groans into them. He starts pacing in front of the couch. “do you know what could’ve happened? you could’ve gotten hurt or worse.” He whispers something else but you don’t catch it. He gestures sharply. “and all that can be avoided by locking your door.”

You stand up now, rising with your anger. “Well I’m fine. What I’m not fine with is the way you’re talking to me right now. I’m not a child, so don’t treat me like one.”

“if you would just lock your door, i wouldn’t have to say it,” he growls, tone low. On the brink, teetering from threatening to vicious. Enough to surprise you. Definitely enough to piss you off.

You hold your hands out forcefully, supplicating, trying to get him to understand. “It’s the _way_ you’re saying it! I said I was sorry! You’re blowing this way out of proportion and being an ass as you do it.”

He squares off, bristling. “i think i’m reacting pretty proportional to how serious it is. it’s you who’s not taking it seriously!” His pupils are darkening and that it’s aimed at you now is perhaps the most unnerving thing. You feel your heart drop. “people know who you are now; they know who i am, what i do. it doesn’t take a genius to find out where any of us live.”

But that terrible, plummeting feeling doesn’t stop you from snapping, “You think I don’t know that? I was _there_! I can still hear them call me a whore and you a monster, like we’re _nothing_.”

Sans’ sockets widen, but he only becomes more incensed by that fact. He points at the ground with piercing intent. “that’s exactly why this is fucking serious, ___!”

You’re shaking. Icing over and melting all at once. Your first instinct is to keep at it, your anger fueling the raging fire. It threatens ruin; violently promises with every ferocious lick of flame. But, by some miracle, you bite your tongue. You’ve been doing a fucking lot of that lately. Neither of you are ok right now and god help you if you make it worse, because heaven knows you surely can. So can he, dammit. Your hands rise, halting him and you. “I’m going out back. Come get me when you’re not gonna yell at me and you can get your head out of your ass.” He glares, about to say something, but you cut him off, hissing more to yourself than him, “And I guess I’ll fucking calm down, too.” You turn heel and stalk through your kitchen to the back door. You open it, and, with an unsatisfied and smirking grimace, lock the handle as you exit loudly.

The chilly air slaps your steaming face.

You don’t often go out back. Your yard is small and nothing to write home about. Its shabby state does nothing to help your dismal mood either. You descend the creaking steps and stride through the dying grass. It crunches its discomfort but it falls on deaf ears. You pick a spot far enough away and sit heavily on the cold ground. You hug your knees to your chest, boring holes through the fence with the sheer force of your glare. Losing yourself instead of the rest of your temper. And, you come to realize, any heat you might have retained. The cold starts to creep in and you fucking forgot your jacket.

Like hell you’re going back inside for it.

You’re locked out anyway.

\-----

Sans is fuming. He’s still pacing, running an angry circle around your living room. Why don’t you understand? Why can’t you just _lock your door?_ It’s not that hard. Flip it. _Just flip it shut_. Then none of this would happen. But no, you’re too stubborn. You _forgot_ to just fucking lock it. Forgot that your safety is paramount. It kills him to think of what could happen to you. Just the thought of you hurt is enough to rattle him. He doesn’t even want to think of worse…that you could be killed. That all he’d find should he show up one day is your…body. Bloody. Broken.

Empty.

He shakes his skull clear of the images vile enough to make him sick to a stomach he doesn’t even have. All of it is so easily preventable! Why can’t you see that? You both had just experienced something neither of you should _ever_ go through. The risks and dangers are huge now. Losing you is an incredibly real concern, so much so that he can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t lose you. His fury-fueled march slows to a stop in front of the couch. He sinks and so does his head right into his hands with a dull scrape. It’s not like he likes getting angry, much less yelling at you. He starts to feel immense guilt from that as his anger ebbs. You just mean so much to him. So much that he’d do anything to try and keep you safe and happy and loved. So much so…that he’d let himself get carried away by it. Like he has been the past few days, now that he’s calmed enough to think about it. Like tonight. He replays it in his mind and cringes.

“fuck,” he mutters.

He messed up. You’re not blameless. But he knows he shouldn’t have yelled or spoken to you like that. He sighs and lifts himself from the couch. He just wants to see you. To make it right. He’s about to turn the knob of the back door, but it holds shut. He looks down.

It’s locked.

Sans tilts his skull back and a half-laugh spills from him. He asked for that.

\-----

When you hear the back door open and close, you shudder. Both from anticipation and the cold. The sun has dipped below the far, burnt horizon, taking back its heat and your comfort. You hope Sans hasn’t come back out to just yell at you again. You’ve never really fought and it’s twisted your stomach cruelly, making your head ache and pound. You hate it. You also don’t entirely know what to expect. And you hate that too. But mostly you wish he would just hold you and you can forget about this shit. You know you did wrong; know you shouldn't have forgotten or gotten angry and—honestly—acted like a child, throwing names. You tuck your knees in tighter, pressing your too cold face against your jeans, shivering. You hear the telling snap of grass track his measured steps across the yard. They slow as they approach and you stiffen even more, expecting his livid voice. You close your eyes and frown as you remember.

What you don’t expect is the soft, _warm_ fabric of his jacket slide around your shoulders.

Your head shoots up as you look at him with wide, watering eyes. His are still a bit dim, but they’re there. And filled with concern and regret.

“Sans…,” you whisper, voice sounding weak, even to your ears. You reach out to him and he takes your hands in his strongly. He drops next to you, legs folding underneath him. He pulls you close and you wrap your arms around his neck as his circle your waist and back.

“___…,” he murmurs into your hair, “i’m sorry.”

You squeeze him. “I’m s-sorry too. I really am.” He presses tender and cautious kisses to your hair, around to your temple. You lean into them and he releases a sigh, contentedness creeping into it. “I should’ve locked the door. I honestly forget sometimes.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head. You didn’t know how much you craved his touch until it was taken by anger on both sides. He says softly, “i just want you safe. i don’t want to lose you. not to anything, especially something like that. and especially after everything that’s happened.” Now it’s your turn to kiss him, feeling his pain and yearning protection just as sharply. You couldn’t imagine losing him either. The thought is so foreign and horrifying, your mind tries to reject it, tries to forget you _dreamt_ about that very possibility. He continues, “i shouldn’t have yelled at you. you were right. i was an ass for talking to you like that.” You huff out a small chuckle and rub his skull with your numb fingers.

“We were both asses,” you concede. “I shouldn’t have called you one though. I’m just sorry I made you more worried than you have been.” You feel him exhale a small laugh and his fingers trace your hairline. Tentative. Apologetic.

“been obvious, huh?”

You tap his chest, smiling. “Maybe a little. Could feel it.” He makes a small noise of inquisitiveness and slight wonder.

“i’ll try to relax.”

“Let me know how I can help. Whatever it takes. Just _let_ me.” Your fingers lay flat on his sternum. “Don’t shut me out. Not now.”

His arms tighten. “i won’t.” You know he means it.

The breeze blows by and you shiver from its touch. Sans pulls back, warm affection lighting up his eyes and a knowing smile lifting his face. You release him to slip your arms into the sleeves of his jacket. “Thank you,” you say, chapped lips upturned.

“’course,” he says, tugging you up onto his lap. You wrap around him, absorbing his warmth from his jacket, his body, his magic, his love. The kiss you place on his mouth now is timid, lips sliding uncertain against bone, but he emphatically responds, crushing you to him. “i love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”

He hums as you continue to kiss. He murmurs, “let’s go inside.” You nod, shuddering again. He laughs and you can feel his eye come to life. “hold on.” And you do. You both disappear from the bitterly cold dark outside, leaving the dead, withered grass behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this is such a late update. These past two weeks have been...less than stellar. In literally every way possible. And topping it off was losing much of the data off my failing, less-than-a-year-old computer. Including litbm and gbv, amongst other things. So I've had to rewrite a bunch in the meantime when I wasn't moving and couch-surfing.
> 
> Remember to always back up your stuff, my bbs. 
> 
> But thank you for all your patience. Things should get back on schedule next update. You guys give me motivation when I have very little sometimes. You rock. <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	45. A Visit

The shadowed bedroom breathes and creaks as it settles in the crawling morning light. Its long fingers stretch an ache long-held overnight, reaching for the darkness, dispelling it at the same time it craves it. The only sound to break the silence is slow, rhythmic snoring. Snoring that belongs to a large man.

Then a long, heaving gray mass skids in, paws and claws skittering with rapid ticks along the wooden floor. It barely even pauses to look at the sleeping man before leaping and pouncing on him.

A fat, “ _OOF!_ ” is forced from him as he curls into the plush pillows, chuckling breathlessly.

“Morna…you can’t just do that to sleepin’ folks,” he says between the licks the excited wolfhound places on his face. He rolls and takes her smiling face in his rough hands, scratching her ears and cheeks. “You’re goin’ to give ___ a rude awakening if you do that to ‘em,” he coos in his coarse baritone. He plants a kiss to her wiry-haired forehead and she barks when he rises to sit on the edge of the bed. Its squeaks are loud and discontented in the stillness of his bedroom. Soothing blues and silken greys are lightened by the morning sun, spreading over the occupied bed. Morna takes the nice warm section just given up by her companion. The man yawns and stretches, rubbing his tired, auburn-bearded face.

“Let’s get some breakfast, alright?” Sully says.

He stands and twists, cracking his back and loosening up his stiff muscles. He shuffles over to the doorway, but turns back when he notices Morna isn’t by his side. He smirks. She’s sprawled across the bed, tongue lolling out as she looks at him with her big doe eyes.

“C’mon, Morna,” he calls. No answer, no movement. Only big eyes. He laughs and shrugs. “Guess you’re not gettin’ any food then.” He walks out of the bedroom and down the hall. It’s only a moment later before he hears a thud and a huff. She trots up beside him, sliding her body along his thigh. He smiles and pats her head. He knew what she’d choose. He’d wager a guess that he’s probably third on her list of favorite things, right behind Food and Sleep. He walks into his small kitchen, and goes about filling Morna’s bowl before making his own highly complicated breakfast of cereal. Once done, he sits down on his couch in the living room, props up his feet, and turns on the tv, watching the morning cartoons with sleepy green eyes.

Sully’s place is small. Nothing really to write home about. Not that he could anyway. Not that there was anyone back home to even _write_ to. The relaxed greys and blues of his bedroom flow throughout the rest of his home, trickling into the curtains and the couch and single recliner. Not much covers the walls either. It’s stark. An austerity brought on by decades in the military. But everything that’s there has a purpose, is used. And is loved. Miles O'Sullivan never does anything half-assed. He gives it his all or nothing at all. That includes the stray, thriving plants on the expansive windowsill, the content wolfhound curling up by his side, the worn leather-bound photo album on the coffee table. Though no pictures adorn the walls, no memories to casually peruse, they’re still there. Just somewhere close to him and his heart. He’s learned to keep them near.

His fingers drift over to comb through Morna’s fur. “What would ya say to sayin’ hi to some friends today, huh, my girl?” She yips, tilting her head back and forth in acknowledgement. And if her vigorously wagging tail is any indication, in enthusiastic agreement. He puts down his bowl and replaces it with his phone. A few rings later and a deep voice answers.

“Hey Asgore, it’s Sully.”

\-------------------

You take a deep breath and exhale, leaving room for the thick, delicious aroma of coffee to fill you instead. The dark brew swirls in your mugs, steam drifting up in shifting, voluminous streams. Your eyes get lost for a while before you hear your phone buzz on the countertop. They scan the message for the briefest of seconds, about to sign off on responding. Your eyes dart back. You really see who it is now, your interest piqued.

“Hmm,” you mutter, typing out a quick response, lips quirked upward. You pocket your phone, pick up the hot cups and walk into the living room where Sans sits with his sockets closed and his bony feet propped on the table. Your lips drift even higher into a comfortable smile as you step around and sit beside him. You place the mug on his strangely normal gut and his hands remove themselves from his hoodie pocket to grasp it. He chuckles and hums when you lean over to press a soft kiss to his round cheekbone.

“thanks babe,” he says, leaning into your kiss.

“Mhmm.” You take a long pull from your coffee and Sans does the same. “You’ll never guess who texted me this morning,” you say.

“paps?” You shake your head. “undyne?” Another shake. He looks at you now, brow cocked and eye-lights bright in curiosity.

“Starts with an ‘s’ and ends with an ‘ully,’” you say.

His brow shoots up his skull. “sully?” he asks, his confusion steering his voice high. You nod. “how’d he get your number?”

“I assume from one of you guys, ‘cause I certainly didn’t give it.”

“well i didn’t either,” he murmurs, thinking. “what’d he want?”

“To come by, check out the place for Morna, let her scope it out. All that jazz.” 

His hand lays on your thigh, thumb rubbing the fabric and skin beneath. He asks, “want me to be here?”

You purse your lips as you mull it over. “Nah, it’s alright. I’ll be fine. Hang out with Paps today, babe.”

“way ahead of ya,” he chuckles. But he leans over to you, pressing his mouth to your cheek now. “ya sure?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at the buzzing sensation and his thoughtfulness.

“alright,” he says, “call if ya need anything.” He turns his skull and kisses you on your lips now, the hand on your thigh slipping down to the inside.

You laugh. “Oh yeah?” Your lips slide against his teeth and his fingers dig into your leg. His small chuckles and warm touches travel deep. “What if I need something right now?”

“then all ya gotta do is call me.” He squeezes. “say my name.”

“Then make me say it,” you tease as you split from him, sipping your coffee and watching his eye light up with delight. Your finger draws a line down his sternum. “We’ve got time,” you assure with a wink. He barks out a laugh and takes your mug from your hand then your body for his.

\-------------------

You brush through your wet hair, already having taken a shower once Sans left. Your mind has been clearer and calmer since the fight. You think Sans’ is as well. There’s been significantly less of that undercurrent of fear, that undertow of dread and distrust of the world dragging you both down, in both your soul and his, from the little you can feel of it. You hope that grip gets stronger once he touches your soul. Feel his soul the way he can feel yours. Even still, both of you have been more attentive to each other. Keeping that promise of not pushing the other way because of what happens. Holding each other close because, like apparently Sully says, loved ones are all that matter at the end of the day.

And it’s _that_ man who keeps throwing you for a loop. You don’t particularly enjoy not knowing things. Especially when they regard your safety or the safety of the ones you love. You like being prepared, being able to anticipate. To not have that luxury, if it can even be called that—it seems more like necessity to you—puts you on edge. An edge you’d rather not walk and one you don’t want to make too familiar. Not now, when you and Sans had just begun to feel more…normal. You feel like you’ve aged a few years since the incident.

It’s a good thing dogs bring out the child in everyone.

So even though you don’t know Sully or his motives or history, you’re still excited when you hear a knock on your door. You take the steps down a couple at a time until you get to the door, opening it to the large, smiling, red-haired man and his large, smiling, grey-haired dog. Morna bounds in and rears up, placing her paws on your shoulders easily and licking your face. You sputter in laughter, scratching her ears.

“Hey Morna! Hey Sully.” You grin at the laughing Sully, who steps in behind her. “She’s not happy to be here at all is she?” you ask with a wink.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head sadly, but a hint of a pleased smirk lifting his mouth. “Not one bit. She’s absolutely devastated. Aren’t ya, my girl?” he says, lifting her off of you and patting her barrel-chested body. She barks and starts ambling around your apartment, sniffing everything new to her long, sensitive nose. Sully turns about in a happy circle, taking in your place. You watch, interested, trying to read him. It's difficult. His demeanor is incredibly honest and genuine even though you _know_ he has secrets. Secrets that could very well spell riches or ruin for you, now that he's part of your life. But you know you wouldn't forget a voice like his. Its deep, lilting and heartfelt cheeriness is so pleasant to you. He's a hard man to decipher—to reconcile—but regardless, you find yourself glad to hear it again. “Lovely place. Very homey. It suits you.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling. “It does its job. A roof and all that.” He chuckles and you usher him inside your living room. You ask, “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, something stronger?”

“Always a fan of stronger,” he quips. You nod and head into the kitchen, delving into your oft-forgotten liquor cabinet. You’re more of a social drinker, preferring to do so when you’re out with friends. So the bottle of whiskey you open is new and well-aged, thinking he may appreciate it, if he drinks often. You look on, seeing him assess your place as methodically as his wolfhound. He sits on the couch, his eyes never stopping in their analytical movements. You pour one for him and one for yourself. You do want him to be comfortable. But also, loose lips sink ships. You would be remiss if you didn’t take this opportunity to delve for information. You're sure he's looking for some as well.

You walk back out with the tumblers, handing one to him. His green eyes brighten as he takes it, his smile widening. “Thank you. Wasn’t expecting quite that.” You toast his glass and he raises his to you while he looks you in the eye and takes a sip. A content hiss escapes both of you as you feel the liquid raze a path down your throat to your stomach.

“From my emergency stash,” you say, chuckling.

He laughs. “Oh, is this an emergency?”

“I dunno. You tell me,” you respond, a knowing smirk crossing your features. His laughs wind down somewhat as he takes another pull. He rolls the glass between his hands, the tumbler almost dwarfed by them. You take a seat next to him, sighing low. He smells like…wood. When it’s been freshly cut and shaped and oiled into something different, more than its former self. Like the earth, when it’s just been upturned and promises new life. It’s an enjoyable and engaging scent. Incredibly likable, unassuming, and down-to-earth, just like Sully. You steel yourself and say without further ado, “I’m not dumb, Sully. I know why you offered to let me take care of Morna sometimes.” You point to him with your glass. “And even though you probably _are_ very busy, you didn’t just start getting busy when you met me. Or busier, that is.” He gazes at you, his emerald eyes soft and hard all at once. Determining the heart of you, yet appreciating you for that same heart.

“Are you waiting for me to answer? ‘Cause it seems like you have me pegged, ___,” he says, his low voice quieter, but no less amused.

You shake your head, saying, “No. But let’s not pretend. One less secret alright? I’d like to be able to trust the person who’s putting a lot on the line for me.” You poke his broad chest now. “Especially when we both know so little about each other.”

He nods, satisfied. “I’d like that too, to be honest.”

“Then let’s be honest. Why me?” you ask, wanting, needing to get some answers. Firing straight and true to get to the point. Your body is thrumming with energy and the thrill of maybe—hopefully—getting your wish.

He swirls the amber liquid around the clear glass, staring down at it for a moment, before answering you with a question of his own. “Well, why _not_ you?” You raise a brow and throw him a sardonic, disbelieving smirk. He laughs, advocating. “What? It’s a legitimate question. Why not you, ___?”

“Because I’m not special to you, Sully.” You feel like you’re talking to Sans right now, you almost can’t believe it.

“But you’re special to someone. To many people, I’d wager.”

You huff, exasperated. “ _Everyone_ is special to someone.” You take a swig of your whiskey. “Sans would fucking love this,” you mutter. He barks out a laugh and you hear Morna bark in return from upstairs. You laugh, didn’t even realize she’d made her way up there.

“Sans is just it though,” he says when he stops his chuckles. “He’s under my protection and so you are as well. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’d already guessed as much myself, Sully. But I’m not satisfied with that excuse.” You grin mischievously. “And I like to be satisfied.”

Sully slaps his knee as he laughs. “Sans is a lucky guy. Can’t argue with that.” The ice in his glass tinkles when he takes another sip. A heavy, almost defeated sigh escapes him now and you get the distinct feeling that you’re onto something. “I’ve perceived threats and it’s my duty to act accordingly with the information that I have.”

“Threats?” you ask, concern making its harsh, acrid way into your heart.

“Don’t worry. You haven’t lived through what I have and not learned to be cautious. I’m just making sure,” he says, bringing you back down with his kind, reassuring voice. He continues, more serious now, “If I can make a difference in just one person’s life; if I had the power and fore-knowledge to keep something from happening, then that’s what I have to do. I can’t twiddle these fat thumbs and sit idly by, ___. Surely you can understand that.”

You look at him for a very long moment. Or at least it seems long to you. “I do,” you finally respond. He smiles at that, but breaks your stare when he tilts his head, brow furrowing.

“I haven’t heard the big sneak in a while and that’s never good,” he says, standing. You chuckle and rise with him, walking over to the stairs. You both head up them and find Morna lying relaxed and asleep on your bed. She almost takes the whole thing, she’s so long. You laugh at the sight, your soul brimming. “Morna,” Sully groans. He’s about to call out to her, but you pat his arm. He looks down at you, perplexed.

“Let her be. She’s gotta get used to it, right?” you offer with a broad smile.

He laughs and shrugs a half-hearted assent. You both walk downstairs and pass by the TV on the way to the couch. You plop down and notice him slow in front of your movies. He pulls one out quickly and whips back around to you, his whiskey sloshing dangerously in his glass and excitement burning hot in his eyes.

“You have Wallace and Gromit?!”

\--------------------

“Are you feeling better brother?”

Sans looks up from the pitted, eroded stones of the path ahead to stare up at his tall brother. “huh?” he asks in confusion.

Papyrus chuckles and throws his arms wide for emphasis. “Are you feeling better?”

Sans’ smile smoothes out. “was i under the weather? i know i’m short, but i’m not _that_ short,” he teases.

“NYEHHH!” Papyrus shouts, scaring a couple of passersby. Sans laughs louder now, looking back up the cobbled path of the park. Papyrus wanted to go since it’s such a nice day outside. Cold and clear, the sun weak in its heat but vibrant through the bare branches. Sans had no problem with it as long as he’s hanging out with his brother. And he has to admit. It _is_ a beautiful day. Papyrus continues, “I mean from before, Sans! Downtown? And do not think you can fool me! I know you, brother.”

“ahh,” Sans sighs in understanding. “you do, bro. yeah ‘m fine.”

“And ___?” he asks.

“yeah they’re better now, too.”

Papyrus fiddles with the end of his scarf. “And you two are alright?” Something insecure in Papyrus’ tone surprises Sans, enough to look up at him again. His brother’s face is calm, but with a hint of worry and doubt. He softens as he figures it out.

“yeah, paps. don’t worry.” He pauses, wondering if he should even bring it up. But who else would he talk to about it if not his brother? “we did have a fight though,” he says.

Papyrus’ attention peaks, leaning close in concern. “A fight?”

Sans nods. “we’re good now,” he reassures. They veer off towards the lake. A chilly breeze blows by, depositing crinkled, dried leaves and leaving shimmering ripples along the mirror surface of the water in its wake.

“What was it about?” Papyrus asks. Sans sits on the dead grass with a heavy crunch, leaning back on his arms and crossing his ankles in front of him. He picks a couple of stones from the ground and tosses them to Papyrus, who throws them in the lake with a whoop.

“they forgot to lock their door and i got angry,” he admits. Geez, it sounds stupid said out loud. He tucks his chin under the blue scarf he stole from you. It’s soft and smells like you. It’s comforting. Enough to banish the embarrassment he feels from telling his brother something that seems so inane and childish. He watches his brother's reaction.

Papyrus’ brow is stitched together in deep concentration, unhurriedly picking up stones while he ponders what Sans said. “Both sides are understandable,” he finally concludes with a positive nod of his skull. Sans chuckles, unsurprised. “I understand your anger and fear. It worries me that someone could hurt them if they leave their door unlocked. Especially after what happened. And I understand why they would be upset that you became angry.” He throws Sans a half-serious, sidelong glance. “I do not like when you are angry either.”

Sans’ sockets widen and a bizarre hollowness blooms in his chest. He looks away and picks at the rocks by his side, unsure of what to say. So he says nothing. Only smiles, though it’s more of a choked grimace. When he turns back, he finds Papyrus crouched in front of him with a soft smile. Soft for Papyrus anyway.

“But if you talked and resolved things then that is what matters, brother.”

The hollow feeling is replaced by a bittersweet tightness that, strangely enough, broadens and morphs his pained expression into a genuine smile. “not a babybones anymore, huh, paps?” he jokes, in true Sans Fashion to dissipate the tension.

Consternation slaps onto Papyrus’ face. “I was never a babybones!” he sputters.

“oh yes you were, you were so cute and tiny. i could hold ya in one arm, you were even smaller than me,” Sans teases with a rolling laugh.

“I am—was—not cute! I AM GREAT NOT JUST CUTE!” Papyrus shoots up, throwing his gloved hands in the air.

“the greatest at being cute. my ‘lil bro, the cutest babybones there ever was,” Sans laughs even more, holding his nonexistent stomach.

Papyrus yells, flustered and orange, and starts catapulting handfuls of rocks into the water while Sans doubles over. After several moments of shared laughter, both brothers calm down, going back to sitting and throwing rocks into the lake, respectively.

“So Sully is over at ___’s today?” Papyrus asks.

“yep.” Sans starts shaking his foot while he watches his brother, though he’s miles away in his mind.

“Do you trust him? I do! I think he is very nice!”

Sans rubs his chin. “i feel like i do. i just don’t know enough about him to be sure,” he says.

Papyrus shouts back, “I get a good feeling from him! I think he’d be a good friend and ally.”

“yeah. and if he helps keep ___ safe, then i’m not really complainin’,” Sans says.

“Exactly!” Papyrus yells as he chucks a large rock into the water. After a while, he takes a seat beside his brother, legs crossed and spine straight, both enjoying the day and watching the people pass by. Though Sans misses you, it’s nice to have some time apart too. It’s only healthy. He knows you need your space and he likes spending time with Papyrus, so it’s a win-win in his opinion. Papyrus starts building a small castle out of the pebbles. “Do you miss the Underground, Sans?”

“no,” Sans answers almost immediately.

Papyrus’ sockets widen, even though he doesn’t look particularly shocked by this revelation. He still asks, “Even though it was our home for so long?”

Sans’ mouth twitches. “home is where your rump rests.”

“Sans,” Papyrus admonishes, looking for a real answer.

Sans sighs. “the underground was a lotta things for me, paps. it was a home, but it was also a prison.” As well as a nightmare, but he doesn’t say that. “there’s so much more up here.” His low voice lulls, calming. “what made it a home for me was you. you and our friends,” he admits. He’s not ashamed. He’s just…not used to talking this way. Revealing his feelings, he guesses with chagrin. He’s jolted from his thoughts when Papyrus hugs him. He makes a small noise of bewilderment for a brief second before hugging back, his surprise turning into happy chuckles. Papyrus lets him go with a high, rasping laugh of his own.

“what about you, bro?” Sans asks, honestly curious.

Papyrus hums and rubs his strong chin. “I agree. But I do miss some things! Like the Royal Guard and the snow and the tree!” He gasps. “SANS! Christmas is coming soon and WE MUST GET A TREE! WE CAN GET ONE, YES?”

Sans laughs, a warmth blossoming inside him. “sure thing, paps. how tall though? i’m a bit _stumped_ on the height.”

“TALL—” Then his mouth falls as he stares at a widely grinning Sans. He points a threatening finger. “NO!”

“aww, c’mon, i thought that one was _oak_ -kay,” he says, smile growing wider. Papyrus stands with a huff and starts walking away. Sans barks out a laugh and stands, shouting, “paps! ya gotta _branch_ out a bit!” Then Papyrus starts running. Sans’ deep laugh echoes loudly and he follows his fed-up brother.

He stops in his tracks though when Papyrus yells back, “YOUR JOKES _LEAF_ SOMETHING TO BE DESIRED, BROTHER!”

Sans nearly falls over from laughter before taking off after him. There’s no one quite like Papyrus. And he wouldn’t trade that for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever just wanna talk? I do. I also miss my brothers, so here's some brother stuff because I love these boneheads and they make me happy and we need some levity, yeah?
> 
> Also, thank you bbs for all your kind and sweet words of encouragement this past week or so. It meant a lot to me, more than you probably know. 
> 
> YOUGUYSARECOOLWHATEVENAREEMOTIONSGETOUTTAHERE
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	46. Differences

A solid round of deep, bubbling laughter mingles with the escapades going on onscreen. “I haven’t seen this in ages!” Sully crows.

You smile, pleased. “I love these. I’m pretty stoked you do too.”

“I used to watch these all the time back home.” He scratches his beard and looks up at the ceiling while he thinks. “Home is probably the last time I’d seen them, actually.”

You sip the last of the whiskey from your glass. “How long ago was that?” you ask.

His answering smile is crooked and full of secrets. He holds his hand out, large fingers waiting. “How ‘bout another round for that question?”

“Sure,” you acquiesce and hand him your glass. He rises with a grunt and goes to your kitchen. You watch him hum tunelessly, refilling the glasses with a practiced air, a relaxed grin on his face. And then Morna shows hers. She yawns as she plods down the stairs, tail wagging when she catches sight of you. She trots over and jumps on the couch, laying the top half of her body on your legs without a single hesitation. You huff out a laugh, petting her long head. Sully walks back in, chuckling at the sight.

“Got a new friend, huh?” he asks as he hands you your glass.

“Yeah, she’s stuck with me whether she likes it or not.” She tries licking your glass but you pull it away with a chuckle. “But I think she likes it.”

“I think so too,” he says, toasting your glass. You both take a pull. “Now about your question. I came here about…seventeen years ago I think.”

You nod. “I won’t ask why, ‘cause I know you won’t tell me.” He chuckles and taps the side of his nose. “But do you like it here?” you ask now, curiosity and lessened inhibitions spurring you forward. As far as finding out his past, you’re already a step closer. Why not get to _know_ him more? You do want to trust him. This is the easiest way you think. You always did like making new friends.

“Yeah,” he says. “It was strange at first, but it’s not so different over here. Replace the tea with coffee and I’d call it even.” You laugh and he smiles. “It’s about as much as home can be when you can’t go back.”

You take another sip, calming down from his truthful admission. You’re drawn into your own memories, led down a winding path by his sobering words. A path you take care to avoid most days. You say quietly, “I can’t imagine. But…I don’t think it’s so different from losing family you think of as home.”

“Is that something that happened to you?” he asks, fixing one viridian eye on you.

“Mhmm,” you hum.

He turns to you fully now, hand straying to pet Morna’s sloping forehead. She lets loose a very contented rumble that tickles your legs. “Who was it?” he asks with the patient understanding of someone who knows, someone who has experienced something achingly similar. And that gives you another piece to the puzzle that is Sully.

“My grandparents.”

“They raised you?” he asks. You nod. “What about your parents?”

You purse your lips. A reluctant smile twists them. “Not around,” you respond. Your tone brokers no argument.

“Fair enough,” he says, knowing smile on his face. You chuckle and tap the side of your nose. Like hell you’d give up that information when he withholds so much. And definitely not when you haven’t even told Sans that yet. That realization takes cruel root within you, feeding the guilt lying there as heavily as Morna in your lap. You realize just how quiet and stiff you’ve grown when Sully’s hand rests on your shoulder and Morna whines softly, licking your hand. You look up and meet his kind eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine, no worries,” you say, smiling softly.

He pauses, then says, “We’re not so different, ___.” Now _that’s_ interesting. Your hand lifts to squeeze the one on your shoulder. It’s large, rough, and warm. Just like you remember it. “If you trust yourself, try trusting me.”

Did he lose someone close to him? So far, it seems like you have more in common than you had originally thought. You’re loyal, nearly to a fault, not that it bothers you greatly. Loved ones really are all that matter at the end of the day. At least to you. You would kill to protect your family and the ones you love. It seems Sully is that way as well. Maybe he’s just taken that step further than you have. And if that’s true, if he was willing to risk everything—his life, his home, and who knows what else—to keep the ones he cares about safe…. Well, you think he deserves a second chance.

“I’m good at trying,” you say and you both laugh.

\-----------

You trudge upstairs, looking with laughing eyes at the strewn, fur-laden sheets on your bed. Better get used to it now, ___, because this is your future. Your phone chimes in your pocket. It’s Sans.

_-how’s it going_

You smile. His curiosity has probably been eating at him all day. 

**_-Good. He left not too long ago._ **

**_-How was hanging with Paps?_ **

_-gr8_

_-mind if i drop in_

**_-Never_ **

You put down your phone and start airing out the sheets of your bed. Small bits of stray fur go flying with a puff and your chuckles turn into a cough. You wave a hand in front of your face to clear the air and just decide to change them altogether. Good thing you have extra clean sheets. You head into the closet to search for your spare bedding when you hear a familiar pop.

“In here, babe!” you call, rifling through the bundles of fabrics with dogged purpose.

Sans steps in behind you and teases with a pinch on your hip, “now there’s really a skeleton in your closet.” You snicker, turning and throwing the sheets over his head.

“Then that’s one secret I’d rather not give up,” you retort, grasping his skull and placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. He chuckles and you carry the rest of the sheets out to the bed, unfolding and tucking them in place. Sans hands you the one over his head with a smile.

“so how was the visit?” he asks, smoothing the covers behind you. And there it is. You flash him a grateful, yet observant smile.

“It was good. Got some more juicy info,” you say as you finish making the bed. Now for the pillows.

He flops down on the covers with a sigh, arms and grin outstretched. “lay it on me, sweetcheeks.”

You rub your face and grab a pillow, holding it close. “I guess I should start with why he was here at all. And doing all,” you gesture vaguely, “this. I asked why. He, uh, said he ‘perceived some threats,’” you say, making air quotes with one hand. Sans sits up quickly, sockets dimming to near nothingness.

“what,” he breathes. You hold up the pillow, almost like a barrier.

“I just think he’s talking about Moore. It’s ok,” you reassure.

“that’s pretty far from ok, ___,” he grinds out.

“You already said Moore threatened us, maybe that’s what he was referring to.”

Sans growls and rubs his face vigorously before falling back on the bed. “i don’t know. but i wanna know if there was something else he could’ve heard about.”

You fist your hand on your cocked hip and say, “Well, we’d already guessed as much, Sans. Don’t get worked up over something we already knew, babe.”

He huffs out a reluctant, “fine.” You just chuckle, glad he calmed down.

You continue, “Ok, so onto more _new_ news. He came here seventeen years ago. Against his will, I think.” You wave one of your hands as you pace. You strip the pillow of its case and wrestle it into a fresh one while you speak. “At least that’s the impression I got. He talks about it like he can never go back.” You throw the first pillow on Sans’ face and he tosses you the other with a muffled chuckle.

“he hinted at it?” Sans asks, tugging the pillow over and under his skull, brightened eye-lights peering up at you. You’re happy to see them back and lively in his sockets.

“Well, he literally said he can’t go back,” you say.

“what would you have to do to be kicked out of an entire country?” Sans muses.

You shrug. “I dunno. Something big though. I mean, it’s shitty for him, but it makes it easier for me. All I have to do is look back seventeen years ago for things happening in Ireland that would warrant that kind of reaction. That gives me a decent timeline to work with I think.”

Sans props himself up on his arms to look at you while you talk. His eyes glow. Not with desire or anything like that. Your mind wants to say it’s pride or admiration, but tries to convince itself that it might not be. Your heart would agree too, if it weren’t for your soul picking up those very same emotions. He says, “that’s a good start.”

“Also,” you continue, throwing the pillow back on the bed and crossing your arms, your own emotions unwillingly pushing away those sweet foreign ones. “I…get the feeling he’s lost some people. People very close to him.”

“really?” Sans asks, intrigued, but brow furrowed.

“Yeah. He asked about my family and I told him about my grandparents. Then he said ‘we’re not so different.’” Sans’ browbone unfolds and raises ever higher. He hums and sits up again with his forearms resting on his knees, tilting his skull to fix his eyes on you. His interest in Sully is forgotten. He’s focused entirely on you now.

“you ok?”

“Hmm?” you turn to him. “Oh, yeah I’m fine, babe.”

He nods, but laces his fingers together, still staring at you. They make dull, muted scrapes in the fading light of your bedroom. Is this it? Is this the time? He’s been wondering about you and your life for a very long time. He was content in the beginning to let it slide for who knows how long. But…not anymore. He’s curious. Where you’ve been, where you come from, what you’ve done. He’s fairly sure he knows you wouldn’t be upset if he asked. You might even have your own questions. But if you’re willing to share, then he can find the courage to do so, too. He loves you. And now he wants to _know_ you.

He looks conflicted for a moment. But it’s just a moment before he says, “i’ve been meanin’ to ask. and you don’t have to say anythin’ if ya don’t want, but…what happened to your parents?”

Your stomach drops for the briefest of seconds, trying to comprehend his question. It’s not that talking about it upsets you very much, or at all really. You were too young to really remember them. But it brings back memories of your grandparents and _that_ has the potential to be hard for you. “Um,” you say and try to clear your throat as well as your mind. Your arms drop to clasp your hands together, fidgeting. Your pacing stutters almost as much as your mouth. You wish you still had that pillow to hide behind.

“babe?” Sans calls, concerned, reaching out for you. You smile weakly and motion to him that it’s alright.

You take a big breath and say, “They gave me to my grandparents and never came back. I don’t really remember them.” You chuckle now. “My papaw said they traveled. Guess they lived the life they wanted to live. And I’m living mine,” you say, stronger. “As far as I’m concerned, they weren’t really my parents. At least not where it counts.” Sans stands up and steps over to you. His hands lay over yours, quieting their relentless wandering before skirting up to grip your shoulders.

“like i said before, your grandparents would be very proud of you,” he says, his face and grin soft and kind. His voice is filled with genuine love and compassion, so much so that it strikes you deep in your heart; so swift, you barely see it coming.

Immediately the tears start to threaten and you damn your emotions to the blackest pit of hell. You fight the burning in your throat—that thick lump, that _damned_ tremble in your chin—and hold your head up high. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” you laugh, wiping away the traitorous, stray tears furiously.

He laughs with you, hand rising to stroke your chin before resting on your cheek. “it’s ok if you do,” he reassures.

“I thought you made me promise to not cry anymore,” you tease, holding his hand to your face, fingers weaving between his own. The pressure comforts you, grounds you from the sadness that threatens to sweep you away in the tide.

He barks out a laugh and kisses your lips. “ehh,” he drawls, “i was never really good with promises anyway.”

You kiss him back and extract your hand to hug him to you. Your hands fist in his hoodie while you feel his lay on your back and drift through your hair. You laugh, pressing your lips to his cheekbone. “Well, this doesn’t count then, I call a mulligan.”

“fair enough,” he says, chuckling, his grin widening at the feeling of your lips on his face.

“Speaking of, turnabout is fair play and all that...what about yours?” you ask. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about that before. But you’re also surprised that it’s never come up, seeing as your grandparents have a couple of times. You also feel a small, but sharp twist of guilt from that as well. How could you have never asked? You don’t think it makes you a horrible person, but your heart cries otherwise.

“my parents?” he asks, pulling back, but still holding firm to you. The lights of his eyes search your face for who knows what; sincerity, curiosity, concern, you're not sure. But you know you feel all of those things in this moment. His fingers pause in their exploration of your hair. You nod, eyebrows drawing together. “i’d tell ya, but i don’t have anything to tell,” he says finally. Your mouth opens, mind unsure of whether he’s just withholding because he doesn’t want to talk about it or…he really doesn’t have anything to tell. From the plain acceptance on his face, the certainty that it’s the latter only grows.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sure of his intention now, but still quite confused.

“i mean i don’t know. dunno who my parents were.” He looks askance, lost in thought. But they are thoughts he’s probably encountered and tried answering a hundred times himself, if not a thousand. “i think most people would have an idea or some feeling of where they come from, if anything at all. but…i don’t. there’s just…nothing.” You echo his movements from earlier, sliding your hand up to his cheekbone, thumb stroking the milk-white bones there. His eyes flick back to you, softening in memory. “it was just me ‘n paps since we were babybones. took care of him the best i could.” Then they look away purposefully, not wanting to meet yours. His voice becomes hushed. “heh…even that’s hard for a kid.”

You close your mouth. Even at this proximity you can feel it.

Shame.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you offer, letting him do what he needs without incurring any judgement or pressure. You never know, but you doubt he’s talked about this to anyone, considering how little he talks of himself in general. He looks at you for a long moment, fingers tightening on your body. You smile and add, “But, for the record…I think you did a great job. I know Paps is _so_ proud of you. And so am I.”

Sans’ chest heaves and his jaw clenches when he huffs out a weak laugh. What’s stopping him, honestly? He’s shared _far_ worse with you, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s hesitant because it’s a disgrace that has shared his mind and soul for much longer than the RESETs. He’s already hinted at it. It’s too late to turn back now. Not—not that he wants to anyway. He wanted to know you. And now he wants you to _know_.

“wanna get outta here?” he asks, hopeful and promising.

You smile and say, “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look I'm back on schedule, what is that all about, huh?
> 
> <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	47. Clarity*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Relations of the sexual nature towards the end!***

It’s well into the evening when you appear in the park. Your mouth parts as you look up, head tilting back in hushed awe. The sky is a graded mixture of lush pink leading one way to the deep purple and blue of midnight, while the other offers a path of weakening shades of soft yellow and dimming orange. The sun burns the remainder, pleading for witness, the scorched clouds streaking across the whole of the world it feels like. They contrast with the muted park. There are almost no people. The only sounds being the wind rustling the bristling needles of the pines and fan-like leaves of the sycamores. Along with the tiny, chirping cries of the wayward bats. And when the wind stops, everything stands in silent repose. Waiting for the next breeze to breathe life back into this painting. The only thing to make it better is the skeleton beside you. When the cold wind blows by, stirring up the dried grass and fallen leaves, you inhale deeply and close your eyes, holding onto Sans and this moment.

Sans doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing you like this. So still, but so full of life. Your soul glows hot and clear, like you live for these moments. Maybe you do. He knows he does now, too. The allowance of the universe for a small break, a quiet moment of contemplation, unhindered by his past, his actions, or the uncertain future. There wasn’t much time for moments like this in the Underground. There certainly weren’t vistas like this. But he’s definitely thought about these brief instances more often than not. There were times he’d be so low that he had nowhere to look but up. Up from his back where he’d been knocked down again and again and _again_. Up at the faux stars, up in his mind, his soul. All he’d wish for was to be swept away, just another wave in the sea, another grain in the ever-shifting dune. He might as well have been those things. It’s not like he had control anyway. But then he’d think. There’s a strange sort of freedom in knowing you have no control. He could do anything and it wouldn’t matter.

And that helped.

It’s that memory that reminds him in this instant. You’re unfettered in this moment, like he was. Like he’s learning to be more and more up here. The shackles of expectation are gone, and all that’s left are the possibilities.

“It’s beautiful out,” you whisper, finally opening your eyes back up. He doesn’t say anything, only responds by kissing you tenderly. You chuckle against his mouth and when you part, you both step out from the patch of trees by the motionless lake. Sans takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. Your thumbs rub minute circles into bone and skin, the others finding homes in your respective pockets. You walk down the path, slow, ambling, taking time to enjoy the hastening night with each other.

“so you wanted to know about me ‘n paps when we were kids?” he says, breaking the calm silence.

“Yeah, but only if you want to share,” you say.

He chuckles. “tibia honest, i do and don’t.” He squeezes your hand. “it’s only fair. you shared with me.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, though your tone is serious. “That doesn’t mean you’re beholden or something. Just ‘cause I felt ok telling you something doesn’t mean _you_ have to. I want you to be comfortable when you share things.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth, teeth pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “you’re the only person i’d feel comfortable sharing this with anyhow. so i will.”

The heat growing in your hand extends its warm, pleasing fingers through to your chest. Though apprehension rests there as well, it makes more than enough room for the affection and compassion you feel for him. So you wait.

He takes a deep breath before he begins. His voice is low, his attractive timbre disguised by memory and the plain recollection of facts. He relays the information like the scientist he is, distancing himself you think as he remembers. “me ‘n paps were just babybones. just kinda showed up one day. don’t remember much, but all i know was it was me ‘n him and no one else. it was ok for a while. that small, i didn’t really know. but when i got older, our situation became obvious. i took care of him in whatever way i could. it just didn’t seem _enough_. i…i thought he’d be better off without me.” His other hand resurfaces to scrape across his skull, his composure broken for a moment. “shit, not even that’s entirely true,” he mutters, looking up at the emerging stars. Drawing strength. “i also thought i’d be better off too. so i l-left him.” The chuckle that tumbles out of him now is half-hearted but full of long-suffering regret. “heh, don’t have guts now and i didn’t back then either.”

You swallow, your brow stitching together in concern. Your other hand wraps around your intertwined ones. “You were just a kid, Sans. You couldn’t’ve known.”

He looses a shaky breath, saying, “yeah. still not proud of it.”

Now it’s your turn to kiss his knuckles. He cracks a smile when he looks at you. You prod, guessing, “But you went back for him?”

He nods. “it wasn’t for long. maybe half a day. but it felt like forever. and i felt like a guilty, piece of shit the whole time.”

“But you went back,” you repeat. “And looks to me like you did right by him. He turned out amazing. And so did you. That’s what matters.”

“think so?” he asks, angling his skull to really look at you now. His pupils are dim. Though you know it was hard for him to share that, you’re so grateful that he did.

“Of course, numbskull,” you say, smiling. He chuckles at that, tugging you closer by his side. Your footfalls echo round, yet dampened on the cobblestone path. A pale line, thin as a thread, but no less lustrous or strong, begins to peek over the treeline, outlining the dense needles and leaves. The moon shows its bright, eager face now, applying a stark silver varnish to the shadows at the same time it dispels them.

He hums in thought. “sometimes i wonder if i stayed outta guilt,” he admits quietly.

“Doubt it,” you respond, the strength of conviction steeling your voice. He looks over, surprised. “C’mon, Sans. You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. Yeah you might’ve gone back out of guilt, but also because of love. And you _stayed_ because of love, even if you don’t believe it.”

“how do ya know?” he asks with the barest hint of a tease. Not entirely serious, but curious enough.

“I just do. I know how much you both love each other. I’ve seen it. First-hand account, you can’t argue with a primary source,” you retort, sticking a tongue out of your smiling mouth.

He laughs, the anxiety trickling out of his bones. “so knowledgeable. i’ll have you know, i find knowing things to be very hot,” he rolls, a finger tipping your chin up.

“Then you better watch your hands, ‘cause I’m on fire,” you shoot right back, fluttering your eyelashes at him. He laughs again, meeting your lips with his mouth hotly for a long minute. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“for what?” 

“For telling me. I know it wasn’t easy. But…it means a lot to me that you did.”

His grin widens beneath your mouth. “thank _you_. for listening,” a kiss, “for not hating me,” another, “for sharing, too.”

You chuckle and throw your arms around his neck. “Who says I don’t hate you?” you tease. He barks a laugh, clutching you tight to his body.

“so true, man, i can just feel the hatred comin’ off ya,” he ribs, tickling your sides. You squeal and squirm in his grip.

When he stops, you hush and murmur against his skull, “I was happy to do those things. I love you, Sans.”

“i love you too. very much,” he says, hugging you closer. Your heart soars, but you realize so does your soul. It pulses, beats like it contains its own life. It sings and you know what it’s saying. You know then that you’re one step closer to him touching your soul. It urges a peal of laughter to erupt from you in your joy and Sans gasps, agape and stunned at the strong sensation barreling its way through him. He lets loose a rolling laugh as well, knowing as clearly as you do now, what your soul is hoping and allowing. He picks you up with a grunt and spins you around, just as happy as you are. “wow,” is all he can say.

“You’re damn right,” you giggle.

“nah, i’m sans,” he jokes right back.

You laugh again. “The one and only.” And then you kiss him. Forgetting the beauty above you. That picturesque sky that had given way to faded, yet glittering stars set in the fathomless black and blue. Something so near and dear to Sans’ heart; something that had been steadily growing on you once you realized its worth and what it means to others. Once you realized what it could mean to be without it. And what it means that he’s forgetting it with you now. When he pulls back, his pupils seem to you as large and vivid as the moon above, like miniature stars set in their own private portion of the night sky. You won’t ever get tired of seeing them, you know for sure. His arm secures its place around your waist and you both continue walking along the path by the lakeside.

“So what did you and Paps do today?” you ask, shrinking into your sweater as the cold breeze trickles and tickles about your neck and hands. You look up at Sans’ calmly smiling face, bathed in that ashen light, drawing even more attention to his skeletal visage.

“hung out by the lake, actually. he threw rocks. i sat. the usual.” You both laugh at that. He continues, his deep timbre being shadowed by something you can’t quite place. Regardless of what it is, it’s still matter-of-fact when he says, “talked to him ‘bout our fight.”

Your stomach threatens to drop. It’s never a very good feeling when others outside of your private life gain some kind of insight into it. Particularly when it’s not something good. But it’s true. You and Sans had a fight. You can’t undo it, no matter how much a frantic part of you may want to. But the knowledge that he’s sharing with Papyrus is enough to quell your fears, shower the cold flames with warm water. It’s an important step for everyone involved and you’d risk your own comfort a thousand times over for Sans to feel safer and open up. So that’s why you don’t look away even though you want to. It’s why you keep your voice even and interested even though you feel it wanting to shake.

“Yeah? What did he say?” you ask.

His arm tugs you closer to his side, a physical reassurance. “said he could understand both sides.”

“That’s _so_ Paps,” you chuckle. He echoes it, nodding.

“he was more worried if we were ok,” he says. You’re confused for a moment, but by the soft look he gives you, you know what he’s talking about.

“Oh,” you breathe in understanding. Your heart tightens from the thought. “That’s really sweet of him. But he doesn’t have to worry.” Your voice is confident, and, ordinarily, you might feel like you’re overstepping some arbitrary boundary that neither of you would be sure of where it lays. Like you're tempting fate by even assuming anything about the relationship. But the surge of warmth in your side and vague, ethereal flickers of borrowed emotions weaving through you only solidify your certainty. No, Papyrus doesn’t have to worry at all. _Not a bit_ , the feelings sigh. You meet Sans’ tender gaze. The edges of his pupils are hazy, snapping in and out of definition, but nevertheless, ringed by love. Your smile breaks wide across your face as well as his. A strange thought surfaces in the recesses of your mind. How did you ever get through a relationship before without being familiar with souls? God, in retrospect, it feels like you stumbled through every single one blind. You’re _almost_ convinced that they ended because you didn’t truly know each other; unaware of the soul beneath and what it felt, what it said, what it sang. You don’t really believe in soulmates or anything so confining as that. But you do feel now like every soul can have _mates_. As long as they’re open, willing, understanding, and, obviously, compatible. And the thought that Sans is, or could potentially be, that for you is intoxicating. It fills you up, and no part of you is left wanting.

“no, he doesn’t,” Sans echoes.

With all of the affections and feelings crashing through you, it’s impossible to fight back the blush that rises on your cheeks. The slight flush that grows ever more susceptible to the chilly wind that caresses it. He spies it, if he can’t feel it—which you doubt very much—and laughs, asking, “whatcha blushin’ for?”

You laugh and press your still-cold fingertips to the heated skin, banishing the rosy tint from your face. “I dunno,” you say, your laughs only building upon the ridiculousness and, admittedly, slight bewilderment you feel.

He laughs with you, leaning to kiss your temple. “it’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it? i knew it, i’m just too good-lookin’.” 

Your giggles increase. “Too handsome for your own good, I can’t. Even. Handle. It,” you say and pat his chest in time with your words.

“it’s a curse i bear,” he intones sagely, closing his sockets and nodding his affirmation. The faux seriousness ebbs from his features and his smile grows softer. “i like it when ya blush,” he admits. You think you even see a matching blue glow ghost across his own face. You pat his hard cheekbone now with a chuckle.

“I like it when you do, too,” you say, with a sly wink. His only grows in his flustering, causing your laughter to pick back up.

“wanna come over tonight?” he asks now, hopeful.

You respond with a happy, “Yeah.” But then you snort, adding quietly, “I’ll come.”

Sans barks a laugh. “you dirty rascal.” He leans closer now. “i’d love it if ya did.”

“I might need a little coaxing though,” you tease again.

Sans’ laughter deepens almost to a growl. His skull turns this way and that, looking around. It’s solidly dark, now that you’re in between the light poles along the path. There’s no one around in sight. Sans’ hand grabs yours and he tugs you to a dense belt of pines. The smell explodes in your nose, only escalating Sans’ natural scent. “well, _come_ over here then,” he rumbles. You bite your lip at his tone of voice. The gravelly resonance lighting that fire in your pelvis. Your heart flutters at the shared promise, the risks you’re taking by doing this out in the open.

But, god, you kind of love it.

Your hands twist in the front of his sweater and his tangle themselves in your hair, pushing it back from your face so he can kiss you. His eye flares and his tongue materializes, licking your lips, dancing with your tongue in playful flicks. You're hardly aware of the subdued blue light it casts on your surroundings. He pushes you and you pull him up until your back hits a large trunk of a tall pine. The bark digs at your back while Sans’ fingers scrape along your scalp and just the sensation that you’re trapped now only serves to turn you on more. Your hot breaths puff in great fogs of steam between the two of you, the only evidence—aside from the soft, heated groans—of the pleasure being sought in this isolated copse.

You break away for just a moment, whispering with a delighted smile, “Oh my god, Sans, are we doing this right now— _ahhhh_ mmm—” Your astounded question is cut off when Sans places his clothed femur against your throbbing sex, pressing hard and insistent. Your head rolls backward, your hair catching onto the creaking bark. An almost embarrassingly needy moan falls from your open mouth as you struggle from more purchase, rocking your hips on his leg. Sans chuckles and takes the well-placed opportunity to attack your neck, licking and biting to his heart’s content. Your moan only grows.

“hell yeah we are,” he mutters to your throat, his tongue laving up and down the length of it. “and i know you love it. love the idea of it. don’t ya?”

You can barely breathe, let alone answer him. Your pussy rubs along his leg, and the only truly coherent thought that you have is that you’re damning the clothes that are in the way right now. He presses harder, both with his leg and with his body, pushing you flush up to the tree and against him. You gasp, mind wiping clean.

“wanna know how i know you love it?” he asks, his whisper a hot caress on your flaming skin.

“Ohhh, fuck—b-because I—ahh—I can b-barely answer you?” you say with a panting laugh. A rumbling chuckle bounces around his chest and you can feel it on yours. It only makes you hotter, forcing your back to arch slightly underneath him. He starts to pull away, his leg moving, and you make a desperate, guttural plea, almost a warning. He better not tease you. You don’t know if you can handle this build, only to have it ripped from you.

But then he unbuttons your pants and slips his hand down forcefully, his fingers diving into your clenching pussy.

You almost come right then and there.

“ _Ohhh—_ ohmygod!— _shit, Sans_ ,” you try not to shout as your breaths hitch, your body shudders and you melt in Sans’ arms. Your arms latch themselves around his neck and he kisses you madly, his other arm dipping to wind around your back. His arm catches you, ensuring your upright position, and you’re thankful for it, because not only is your lower body falling apart at the seams, your arms feel weak as well.

“i know,” he hisses, biting your swollen lips, “because you’re so fucking _wet_.” And when he continues talking, you find yourself so close to peaking. “i know why. why you love this. because,” he breathes and starts kissing down to underneath your jaw, right over your jugular. He hovers there, licking occasionally, but mostly feeling your wonderful heart beat rapidly beneath his demanding mouth. “because…you like the the risk of being caught. the idea that anyone can see you being taken by me…. don’t you?” he asks with another kiss to your pounding pulse.

Damn, is he right.

“Yes,” you gasp out, hips gyrating against his slick palm.

“yes, what?” he urges. His hand slows and you growl in frustration and longing.

“Yes, _Sans_ ,” you answer. He rewards you by thrusting his index and middle finger into you while his thumb rubs at your wanting clit. The sensations and his dirty talk are more than enough. You shiver and contract around him, moaning high as you tighten your hold and your orgasm sears your aching body. When the waves lessen their relentless crashing through you, you slump, a satisfied lover in Sans’ embrace. He just chuckles. But his fingers haven’t stopped in their movement.

“done so soon? i think you have another one in you, don’t ya, baby?” he proposes.

You laugh, breathless, “Another? Shit, if you keep talking to me like that out here, you’d definitely get more than one out of me.” He laughs as well, but with the animalistic growl you hear in the back of his would-be throat, you know he means business and desires what you’re promising. “But what about you?” Your hands try to drop to his chest, but he stops you with a kiss.

He murmurs to your lips, “you can take care of me later. right now, i wanna focus on this fucking incredible beauty in front of me.”

You smile. “Fine. But I’m going to _ruin_ you later.”

“i anxiously await destruction at your,” he flexes his fingers inside of you and you moan low, “ _capable_ hands.” He wastes no time and it takes almost none to work you back up into a frenzy again. His fingers pump in and out of you while his thumb rubs faster circles on your clit. Your hips respond in kind, humping his hand with abandon. Your moans fluctuate between heavy groans and soft mewls. They extend into long, low exhales when he settles his mouth above your skyrocketing pulse once more. His lowering voice drifts across your skin, vibrating and resonating deep inside your chest, into your very soul. It wants, it needs and you do not doubt Sans hears its call as well, if his skipping breath is any indication.

He asks, “wanna know another reason why you love this?”

“Why, Sans…?” you whisper, your mind buckling under the pressure of his words and his actions.

His breath and his words become heated with restrained desire, much in the same way your body is not trying at all to hide your own. “because even though we both know you’re so strong, independent, and f-fucking sexy as _hell_ ,” you bend and tremble at the sound of him losing his cool, if only for a moment, “you _love_ the idea that you belong to me…just like i _love_ the idea that i belong to you,” he mutters hotly, wantonly, lustfully. Your panting increases at his admission, but also because of his perceptive analyzation of you. Yes, you’re independent. Yes, you live for no one but yourself.

But fuck if what Sans said isn’t compelling to you.

That you have the choice and sense of self great enough to willingly give yourself to someone else. To _Sans_. Because he’s right. You do love it. It sure as hell turns you on.

He goes on, and you don’t know how much longer you can last. The fire that’s raging inside you is getting out of control. “you _want_ someone to see. see that side of you…that you’re _mine_ and _yours_ and no one else’s.” He bites the skin of your throat and your groans bottom out. “fuck…just look at you, babe…. _incredible_ ,” he growls, moving down to kiss and bite your collarbone. He enters a third finger into you. You almost cry from the feeling, a small whine of yearning spilling from you. He hums a soft groan of his own on your chest. You have nothing to say. Not like you could even if you wanted to. It’s all too much and with just a few more thrusts of Sans’ fingers and well-timed strokes, you unravel.

“ _Fuck_!” you cry out, not caring that anyone can hear, hips jerking to impale yourself more on his still-moving fingers. Your toes curl inside your boots and you scramble to your tiptoes for any kind of purchase against Sans’ body. Your arms crush him to you and he milks your pleasured moans for all he’s worth, working you slow and steady through the monster of an orgasm tearing its way through your body.

“that’s it, babe,” he murmurs, words muffled but no less loving in your iron grip.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, your muscles still twitching and the fire still burning you alive. “That…that w-was—fuck,” you sigh, broken, utterly ravaged and at a beautiful loss. Your hands relax, your arms loosen and Sans lifts his skull. He gazes into your exhausted eyes, alight with delight and love. His mouth meets your raw lips and you’ve never had a kiss sweeter. It’s honeyed by the earnest knowledge of each other, the ardent acceptance of facets of yourself you’d never want to share with anyone else.

Until a voice knocks you so hard out of the moment that you’re in the middle of next week, looking both ways to Sunday.

“Yooo….SKELEDUDE _GOT_ IT! RIGHT ON, LOVEBIRDS!”

Your heads whip to the intruding voice so fast you hear both of your necks crack. They find that man and his dog that you saw that one afternoon by the nice cream stand so long ago standing there clapping, thrilled and vigorous. His dog howls and weaves around the man’s legs. You’re absolutely mortified, but Sans, amazingly, barks out a laugh and hugs you tight. Before you even know it, he teleports you both out of there, leaving an awestruck, but encouraging man and dog behind in the cold, clear night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you he'd be back. 
> 
> LOL I had a lot of fun with this chapter and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	48. Thanks*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Some fluffy sexiness at the beginning! Then it's all sfw after the 1st break.***

You drop into Sans’ room laughing your ass off. You can only imagine how red your face is right now. You can definitely feel how flushed it is. You start wheezing and cover your face in your hands, hiding it in Sans’ hood and shoulder. His body bounces underneath you and he hugs you tight as he laughs uproariously as well.

“Oh my god, oh my _god_ ,” you gasp, once you’re able to catch your breath. Your heart is hammering your chest from the inside out from the incredible amount of adrenaline coursing through you.

“well. good thing i don’t have any skin, or it woulda been scared off,” Sans chuckles. You snicker, digging your hot face even further into his hood. His hands come up to try and grasp your face, but you shake your head.

A resounding, “Nope,” is your muffled reply.

“aw, c’mon, babe. ya know i like it when ya blush,” he teases lovingly. His fingers brush your hair back, lock by messy lock. “and i thought we made it clear you liked it,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to your head.

The memory almost makes your knees weak. From both his words from earlier that took your breath away, and, forever after, the shock from discovery. “Liking the idea of being caught, and _actually_ being caught feel _very_ different, Sans,” you say, laughing more. His hand steals underneath your chin, tipping it up to meet his penetrating gaze. Your blush deepens at your reveal to the world you were just so vulnerable to and _your_ world that just made you so vulnerable.

“there’s that beautiful face,” he says, grinning, eye-lights bright. His hand drifts upward to caress your flaming cheek. You smile, a few stray, leftover chuckles tumbling out.

“Do you remember that guy?” you ask now, just astounded at the memory of it all.

He laughs. “how could i forget?

“He sure got a helluva show,” you say with a snort, moving to hide your face once more. But Sans stops you, holding you still, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Despite the horror and unbelievable surprise…you’re still turned on, kept heated by Sans’ fervent touches. And you _did_ say you’d ruin him later.

Later just turned into now.

“he sure did,” Sans whispers. You hum and press back. He deepens the kiss, your lips caught by his canines. You tilt your head in response and you find yourself quickly slipping away from the firm hold on your control. It takes a great effort to come back from your place of desire. Your focus is Sans now. Your hands come up to slide along his jaw, scratching the bone lightly with your nails. His hums begin to echo yours, adding a darker, more robust range to the soft groans floating about.

You mutter against his mouth, “And I bet that _you_ like that he got a show.” His increasingly urgent mouth tugs the skin of your smiling lips. “Because…like you said…you love that I belong to you.” You pause. His hands take advantage of your brief silence and drop to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “And you love that you belong to me.”

“i do,” he whispers again.

Your lips halt as you say, “You did such a good job of reading me, it’s only fair I return the favor. So,” you place another small kiss, “do you wanna hear what I think?” His hands tighten and his breath hitches.

“do i.”

You smile.

And begin.

You step back and raise your hands to the zipper on the front of his hoodie, drawing it down with the utmost care. Your hands slide in when you say, “You’re always so calm. Collected.”

He chuckles brokenly, and you notice his hands itching at his sides. “is this calm? don’t—heh, don’t feel it.” You meet his pulsing eyes with your confident ones.

“Shh,” you hush with a faint grin. If anything, his pupils glow brighter. “That’s just it,” you say as you push the jacket off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, long forgotten to the both of you now. Your fingers spread out across his chest, eager for every bit of him; every dense bone, every edge, hard and soft. And so you do by ridding him of his shirt. Now he is well and truly bare beneath you. And you finally see the bones you so long for.  “With just a word…with just a touch,” you emphasize by trailing a finger down his sternum from his collarbone, to his lowest rib, “I can tear you down.” A sharp exhalation escapes him and you swear you hear a rumble bounce around in his chest. It’s something you can feel in your own bones; in your soul you think. “And you _love_ that.”

You start to circle him, but your hands never leave. Only shifting, drifting, and lifting across his ribs to his back. You trace the vertebrae of his spine and their invisible joining. That magic that beckons. A call you wish to answer, a thousand times over if your soul had anything to say about it. “You love that I can break that mask of yours.”

His skull rolls back and he stares at the ceiling, breathing deep, trembling sighs. He hears you shed your own jacket and shirt and the teasing rustle of them falling to the floor makes him close his sockets, almost overcome with want. Then he feels your chest against his back and your hands wrap around to his front. He shudders under your loving hands. Sans realizes with clarity that you’re right. It’s not exactly the piercing kind. It’s more a reminder; a strong reinforcement of something inside him that he probably always knew existed, just never truly understood until now. But that realization is somehow more poignant than any true revelation could ever be. You know him just as well as he knows you. His fears, his desires, his obsessions, his needs. He spends all of his time hiding, and there’s no truer a mask than his grin. Underground—and even above—he’s always so careful to keep his secrets and feelings close. More for survival than anything. But then you came along. You know him now. You see him for all of his faults and the few virtues he thinks he has. And you love them. You allow him to remove his mask, and break it should it need to be broken. He knows he never wants you to stop. And he knows all he’ll ever want is you.

Your fingers slip in between the spaces of his ribs, rubbing along the edges and inside and he begins to writhe underneath you.

“___...,” he moans.

“You love that I can make you flustered—and hot—and _ruined_ ,” you say, interspersing your quiet words with equally delicate kisses to his spine. After each rib has been given the amount of attention you desire, your hands lower to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding your hands to the wings of his pelvis. He jerks and groans ever louder. “That you can begin to expect the unexpected.”

When one of your hands falls to that connection of his pubic bone and the other rises to find itself dwelling on the upper portion of his spine, the part lying just inside his chest, he gasps and takes a faltering step forward. His hand grabs the post of his bed and he hunches over, shaking, falling apart beneath you. Your touch, coupled with the words aimed straight and true at his soul, he finds he can hardly make sense of anything anymore. So he doesn’t think. He just lets it happen. And loves every second of it.

“f- _fuck_ —___,” he’s barely able to utter.

You spy the small beads of blue sweat dot his skull and the telling cyan glow spread across the bed and dresser. You know you’re on the right track. You feel empowered. He’s yours. And you don’t let up, stroking his bones even harder. His weak growls crumble, tearing down until they’re nothing more than lustful moans.

“You want to be seen too. And if by anyone, then by me. You want to be wrecked and you want me to be the one to do it.” Your fingers tighten and press more insistently and swiftly. “And you love that I do.” You kiss his back again, long and slow. “And so happily.”

He huffs out a tiny laugh, before it dissolves, once more lost to his own desire. The post creaks underneath the strength of his grip.

“So let go, baby. Be seen. Be torn apart. Be loved,” you murmur.

He groans. And then gasps sharply when the hand on his spine places one more stroke higher inside of him. A wave of dancing heat travels under your fingers and Sans shakes, his bones rattling as he moans your name. You could hear your name fall from him like that for the rest of your life and it still wouldn’t be enough. He nearly collapses and you partly hold him up as he leans heavily on the bed, panting hard. You release him and hug his expanding and contracting torso. His bones are buzzing with ebbing power and he’s so warm on your hands, your arms, your chest, your cheek that lays on his back.

“my god…,” he mutters breathlessly. His hand rests over your own. Alive with love and magic.

“Yes?” you answer with a cheeky grin.

He just laughs, shaking his hanging skull. “do you know how much i love you?” he asks. The stillness in his rough voice causes you to pause and your heart to pound from the strength of his words.

“If it’s the same as how much I love you, then yeah. Quite a bit,” you say, your lips regaining that small smile. His thumb strokes the top of your hand.

“i can’t wait for the day i can really show you, ___.”

You hug him close, feeling him and your soul respond to his words. You whisper, “I think it’ll come soon.”

He straightens with a roll of his shoulders and turns in your arms. His eye has calmed considerably, but still burns. It burns you alive. His arms hold you close and he kisses you passionately. You return it tenfold. He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. Because you feel it. He rids the rest of the clothes from both of your bodies and pulls you down to bed. Neither of you get much sleep.

Because you love and love and love.

\------------------

A ringing inserts itself rather rudely into your wonderful dreams. Now that you’re coming to, you can’t really remember them, but you’re sure they were pretty awesome. Your eyes open, bleary and slow, to the waking world. The incessant chiming is coming from…below…. You glance over to yours and Sans’ clothes that are strewn about on the floor. From your precariously perched place on the very edge of Sans’ bed, you extend your arm out in a weak, half-assed attempt to grab it and at least shut it off. You can’t reach. You wave your hand at it and mumble, “Eh, fuckit,” resolved to sleep it out.

And then another sounds off. Coming from the same general area. You groan and dig your face into the mattress. You hear a pathetic grumble next to you and some shifting, followed by the _poof_ of a pillow changing orientations. Probably over a skull, you imagine. You feel Sans’ hand gently grasp your elbow in his half-asleep state. You hope he slept well, considering he took up almost the whole bed. The ringing stops and you finally get some peace and quiet. You close your eyes once more, nearly back in the realm of dreams.

“SANS! FRIEND WHO I IMAGINE IS IN THERE AS WELL!”

You jolt awake from the keening voice, eyes flying wide in shock. Sans shoots up, making you startle even more. The force of your jump and his causes your dicey position to topple, tipping you onto the floor with a yelp.

“Ugh…,” you groan, curling into a ball. It’s only then you realize you’re very naked. And cold. You would kill to be back under the covers and _asleep_.

“babe?” Sans calls to you in concern. “y’alright?” You turn and look up at his worried yet disturbingly amused face. It’s always so poorly hid.

“’m Lefty, remember?” you say, a grimace slogging its way across your features.

He chuckles, a soft looking coming into his eye-lights. He offers you his hand. “much as i like to see ya naked on my floor, ya might give paps a heartattack. if he had one,” he adds, grinning. You laugh and take his hand. He tugs you up and back into bed, next to him. You pull up the covers over your chest and under your arms to hide your body and rest against the headboard. You rub your sore shoulder and try to clear the sleep from your throat and eyes.

Sans’ finger trails down your arm, so light, before holding your hand. He calls out, “yeah, paps, come on in.” Papyrus opens the door and strides in, swift as a whirlwind. He barely stops.

“I am sorry I woke you, but Asgore has been trying to get hold of you both! He could not, so he called me!”

Your brow furrows as well as Sans’. He spies the phone in his brother’s hand. “he still on?” he asks, pointing. Papyrus nods and places the phone in Sans’ outstretched hand.

“hey, asgore,” he says.

You turn your attention to Papyrus while Sans talks. “Morning, Paps,” you say, smiling, your bleary eyes losing even more sight as they crinkle.

“Good morning!” he responds, cheery for being so early. But it wouldn’t be Papyrus if he wasn’t. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thanks. And you too,” you say. You grab his hand and you both squeeze before turning back to Sans. He’s just finished, handing the phone back over to Papyrus.

“What’d he want?” you ask.

Sans rubs his sockets, saying, “he wants us to come over today. no rush, but he does wanna see us. he understands you have work, bro, so he said come over after.” You and Papyrus nod. You have more questions, but they can wait.

“I must go, but help yourselves to breakfast! I made plenty!” Papyrus shouts on his way out of Sans’ room.

“Thanks, Paps!” you yell through your yawn. Sans echoes a jumble of words through his own that vaguely resemble a ‘thanks’ and ‘see ya’ as his brother runs out the front door. Now that Papyrus is gone, you raise your arms above your head and stretch with a shaking groan. It only makes Sans yawn more, his bones rattling. You lean over and place a tender kiss to his cheekbone. He catches you by surprise when his hand lands on your cheek to keep you still while he places his own kiss on your lips. You sigh, happiness stealing its way, effortless and free, through you. You’re a bit dazed when he pulls away. His hand pushes your hair back a moment, before dragging a great heap of it over your face with a bark of laughter. You just sit there, staring at him through your hair with a content, sleepy grin on your face.

“I think it’s a good look for me. Very Cousin It. I’m feelin’ it.”

“seems like it could turn out to be a hairy situation though,” he teases, kissing your forehead before he gets up.

You laugh and say, “Ooooh, I hope you didn’t lose sleep over that one.” He chuckles and stretches himself and you finally fix your hair.

“i slept pretty well actually,” he says, winking at you.

“I bet, seeing as you took the whole bed.” You give him a pointed look.

He shrugs and laughs again. “fish gotta swim, skeletons gotta sleep. that’s just nature, babe.” Still smiling, you roll your eyes and bat his hand away when he tries to pinch your cheek. He rifles through the clothes on the floor while you swing your legs over the side of the bed, still holding the sheets to you.

“So why did Asgore wanna see us?” you ask.

His grin falters. “he wants to talk to us about what happened downtown.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your own face dropping. It’s not really something either of you want to remember, both more than content to just move on at this point. But…he is the king, and he should know if he doesn’t already.

“just bein’ thorough,” Sans reassures, noticing your face. You meet that calm look and a smile returns.

“Welp…. Allons-y.”

\-------

You and Sans drop in front of the large door of Asgore and Toriel’s house. Your truck was still at your apartment and Papyrus has the other car. Plus, this way is faster and you still don’t think Sans is entirely comfortable out in public still, especially after what happened. You knock and both wait, the anticipation of what’s coming starting to creep around the edges of your composure. You don’t think you’re going to be yelled at. You don’t know why you would be in the first place. But it kind of feels like you’re going to trial and it’s been a while since a parent-figure scolded you. The image of Asgore with his hands on his hips and a face filled with consternation makes a short, bright laugh trickle out from you. Sans looks over with a quizzical eyebrow cocked.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mutter, biting your smiling lips. Sans is about to respond when the door opens.

And all your worries are dispelled. Flung to the four winds.

Because all you can see is concern and relief on Asgore’s face. “My friends,” he says softly, smiling through his beard. He sweeps an arm out and ushers you both inside. Once the door is closed, he places one heavy paw on your shoulder and his other on Sans’. “I am so glad to see you both safe. And your brother once he arrives,” he intones deeply.

Your hand rises to pat the warm paw as you say, “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”

“no bones about it,” Sans says, his deep voice even and cool. You exhale through your smile. There most certainly _were_ bones about it. Sans made it clear to you how helpless he felt. You could feel it. And that he couldn’t use his magic to get the three of you out of that situation has only been a thorn in his side since. But like hell he’d tell Asgore how he _really_ feels. You can imagine today in your mind already. Sans and back-handed prickliness go hand-in-hand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see it later. If he plans on going toe-to-toe with the King, he better bring his A-game.

“Please, come in you two. Make yourselves at home. Would you care for some tea?” Asgore asks, his congeniality lifting your mood.

“Yes, please,” you answer while Sans nods. You both sit down on the expansive couch, sinking into the plush cushions. You lean over and whisper pointedly by his cheekbone, “I’m glad I wore my jacket, ‘cause it was a little _cold_ back there.”

Sans chuckles and doesn’t meet your eyes. “don’t know what ya mean. goes right through me,” he retorts.

You smile and make a near-imperceptible shake of your head. You press your forehead to his temple and mutter, “Just don’t be an ass-icle,” before placing a warming kiss to his hard cheekbone. You’re pleased to see a blue flush remain when you pull away. His sneaking hand pinches your side in retaliation and you slap it away with a soft squeak of your voice. Sans’ grin only widens.

A baritone chuckle causes you to whip your head around. A hot flash of embarrassment spears you straight down your spine when you meet Asgore’s perceptive smile.

“I trust your relationship is going well?” he remarks, casual, unhurried. His voice is always so pleasant. It makes a great accompaniment to the tea he always takes so much care to make. And it puts out the flood of bashfulness you just experienced.

“Thank you,” you say, gripping the cup he offers and inhaling with the whole of your lungs. Just the smell is enough to thaw the chill from the outside. You open your mouth to respond to his question.

But in a surprising turn of events, Sans says it for you. “it’s great.” The icy frost is gone from his voice and you know he means it. There’s a truth and a warmth there, and that melts you more than any tea or fire ever could. Because he’s right. It is great. One of the greatest things to ever happen to you. Asgore doesn’t look surprised at all, his smile only brightening at Sans’ admission.

“What he said,” you chuckle and take a sip from your tea.

Asgore eases himself into the massive armchair across from the couch, settling with a heavy sigh. He takes a long moment to savor the tea, closing his eyes. You just watch him. Bathed in light and shadow. His horns piercing the weak rays, throwing long, dark fingers into the room.

Sans watches too. But his mind wanders. He wonders if you’d be shocked if you met Asgore the way he was in the Underground. Because Sans knows. The monster sitting before him was not the same. He was…there. But hidden underneath all of that pain and anger. Which only makes Sans count his lucky stars that you didn’t know him then. Hardly any could survive his wrath. He’s just glad you know him now, the way Sans kind of always wanted everyone to see him. Spending so much time waiting around the Judgement Hall left him bored most times. And Asgore had free reign of the palace. Sometimes…they were the two loneliest monsters down there. Wasn’t hard to cross paths now and then. Asgore was also a pretty willing audience for Sans’ jokes too. He’s not a bad king. Hell, there could be way worse. Sans really isn’t sure there’s one who could care _more_ than Asgore does. He’s just glad you both seem to have found an easy friend in one another. He’s not going to start a fight today, despite his misgivings. But he won’t take anything lying down either.

Asgore opens his eyes, a more serious expression in the lines of his fur. “Please tell me what happened downtown. I have heard some reports, but I want to hear it from you both.”

You and Sans share a quick glance. His faint smile and nod encourages you. You clear your throat, saying, “Well, we were starting to be harassed by this older women, but when we tried to get away, three men cornered us.” You can already feel Sans tense up beside you, sinister traces of _something_ sneaking through you. You soldier on, trying to ignore the hollow anger making its home inside you. “They started to attack, but Sully and his dog scared them off.”

Asgore leans forward, stunned, his sable eyes glittering in rapt attention. “Sully? O’Sullivan?” he repeats as if he didn’t quite hear it right the first time.

You nod. “Yeah. He was pretty impressive. Decked a guy. Fought another off. He kept us safe,” you say, voice becoming more hushed towards the end. Sans’ hand finds yours and tightens in reassurance. The grim emotions from before dissipate like shadows in the face of the sun.

Asgore focuses on Sans now. His face is unreadable to you when he says, “Thank you for not using your magic, Sans.”

Sans’ hand squeezes yours again and you swear you feel him bristle, bones droning their displeasure of inaction. “wouldn’t thank me just yet. ‘cause i would’ve if i could,” he snaps, a thin veil of harshness creeping in. You cringe at what comes next.

Asgore exhales and narrows his eyes. His voice becomes commanding and layered thick with the responsibility of royalty.

“I thank you because I know you are not exactly level-headed when it comes to ___, here.” Your widening eyes dart between the intense staring match going on between them. You’ve effectively been rendered invisible in this moment, though you are the subject of it. You groan internally, your worries having come to fruition. Sans says nothing, though he looks like he has a lot to say in actuality. Just that mask; cold, grinning, impermeable. Asgore breaks it first, softening as he says, “I thank you, Sans, because I am proud you didn’t, despite wanting to.”

Sans’ brows raise. So do yours.

Asgore continues. “If I had been in your position at your age and stage in life and love, I am not sure I would have reacted the same. I doubt I would have been so careful. Your restraint is commendable and means I can more fully place my trust in you. So thank you.”

Sans heaves a great sigh and puts his cup down, rubbing his skull with his free hand. “my skull may be thick, but i’m not stupid. i don’t want to jeopardize what we’re doing any more than i want ___ in harm’s way.” He looks over at you with torn eyes. Your answering smile is supportive and compassionate. His face softens.

Asgore nods, a more understanding and complacent expression crossing his face now that the anger has left it. “I feel your frustration. But all we can do now is be vigilant. We knew this might happen, so now we must prevent anything further.” He turns to gaze at you now. “And I would like to thank you for your courage. The reports I have read mention your attempts at protecting Sans and his brother.”

“Didn’t really do much,” you mumble. The wish to have been able to do more, _actually_ protect them, fight back, _something_ , is so extreme that Sans’ thumb immediately rubs a hard circle into your hand. You’re not sure if it’s because of that surprising emotion or Asgore’s words though. Even in spite of his positive encouragement—and you’re not entirely sure why—you feel ashamed. You know you shouldn’t. But you can’t help but feel like you should have been able to stop your own damn kind from threatening and hurting you or those you love. If they, monsters, can’t defend themselves in the only way they can for fear of violent backlash, then that responsibility lies with you…. Doesn’t it?

You feel like you failed.

And that makes your face fall. Your heart takes a precipitous drop in spite of your mind screaming there was nothing you could actually do. It’s so fast and so profound that even Sans reels from it. He wonders why your mood took such a drastic turn. If they were in a more private place, one where he could zone without being caught, he could probably parse out your emotional decline. But not here, not yet.

“But you did,” Asgore reassures with a kind smile. You meet his eyes, forlorn. “Just as I place my trust in Sans, so can I with you. You have only served to reinforce my confidence. So yes, thank you. And I will do everything in my power to help keep everyone safe.”

Your heart still aches somewhat, but it lessens as what he said begins to sink in. You’re not sure it’s something that Sans can even help you with; more that it’s just something you have to come to terms with yourself. But you know he’s going to ask you about it later. It might help to talk about it. Your lips twitch. You’ll see.

Asgore leans back in his chair, sipping his tea again. “I will have to thank Sully as well.”

Sans speaks up now. “i figure you should know he’s enlisting some extra hands to help ___, too.” He grins slyly. “four to be exact.”

You chuckle, muttering, “Don’t you mean paws?” He laughs and his thumb caresses your skin. Asgore just looks between you two, amused but very lost at the same time. You decide to put his questions to rest, saying wryly, “He’s letting me take care of his dog. Or rather, letting his dog take care of me sometimes.”

“A dog?” he asks, still unconvinced.

“she helped us downtown,” Sans says.

“Very loyal, well-trained, huge. Scary when she needs to be. Probably more capable than most humans,” you add.

Asgore hums as he takes in the new information. “Well, that will be very helpful indeed. ___, Sans,” he addresses you both, “Should you ever feel unsafe—any of you—you are always more than welcome to stay here. We have plenty of room.” He smiles. “And I’m sure Frisk would love it.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“thanks, asgore,” Sans echoes.

A shutting of doors draws everyone’s attention to the large front bay windows. Toriel and Frisk are walking up to the house, back from school, you assume. Asgore brightens and you once again catch a glimpse of the happy king underneath.

“Tori and Frisk will be pleased to know you’re here,” he says as he gets up with a grunt, moving to meet them at the door.

Sans turns his skull to you, eye-lights searching your face. “you ok?” he asks, serious. You know he means from earlier

“Better,” you say truthfully. You set down your cup and count his finger bones while you look down. “I know you’re curious about what I’m feeling, or was feeling.”

“read me like a book,” he murmurs, soft and loving.

You smile and look back up. He seems pleased to know you’re better than before, but you can tell he’s still worried. “Can I tell you about it later? Not really the best time right now.” He glances back at the small family outside. Then he turns back to you and nods.

“you got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'll write some raunchy-ass shit and be like "Hm, yes, that /does/ go there."
> 
> But as soon as I write really sappy, romantic stuff, I BLUSH 
> 
> Despite my childlike aversion, yet obsession towards romance, I hope you enjoy! I DID AND DO
> 
> B-b-b-b-baka!
> 
> Tmblrrrrr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	49. To Be Scared

You steal a swift kiss from Sans before Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk make their way back inside the house. But you’re caught.

A trilling, high voice yells, “SANS AND ___ SITTIN’ IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” You burst into laughter, looking at the small child barreling towards the couch. Frisk jumps and lands heavily on Sans’ lap.

A dull, “oof!” shoots out of him as he chuckles breathlessly. He says, “but we’re on a couch, kiddo.” He flashes you a wink and ruffles Frisk’s hair. You rise to hug the giggling Toriel.

“Hi Toriel,” you say with a smile. You’d missed her; the warmth of her smile _always_ making its way to her unfailingly kind eyes.

“Hello, my child. It is good to see you again, and safely I might add.” Her sweet smile is no less knowing. She really keeps on top of everything, despite being so busy. She looks over at Sans, who’s pinned a struggling Frisk under his back as he lays on top of them. He waves, one eye gazing lazily up at you both.

“hey tori,” he drawls. The scene makes you laugh, the sadness you felt earlier sloughing away from your heart.

She covers her mouth to hide her laughter, pleased to see them getting along and having fun. “Nice to see you too, my friend.” She holds up her paw as she remembers something. “Ah, Sans, before I forget, could I please ask for assistance?” His other eye opens in curiosity.

“ _lay_ it on me,” he jokes.

Toriel laughs and says, “Frisk needs some help with their math homework. If you do not mind.”

“Mooooom!” Frisk groans underneath the heavy weight.

Sans chuckles and stretches, messing with them for a moment longer. Frisk dissolves into giggles. “heh, don’t worry, kid. you can _count_ on me,” he says, winking up at you and Toriel once more. He sits up and Frisk wiggles out and off the couch, grabbing their backpack, then dragging Sans by the hand to the dining room table. Toriel watches them go with a satisfied smile. She turns back to you.

“So Asgore told me what had happened downtown. I am so sorry to hear you three had to go through that,” Toriel mutters, placing a large, reassuring paw on your shoulder as the three of you sit in the living room. Something about her tone suggests she's more angry about it than she'd ever admit aloud. At least not in front of you.

“It’s ok,” you say, nearly having a knee-jerk reaction. But you catch yourself, not willing to just…let it slide so easily away. “Well, it’s not, but _we’re_ ok. Thankfully, none the worse for wear.” Your hands fiddle with the scarf around your neck, the slick fabric suddenly too-tight. “Papyrus’ optimism helped a lot I think,” you add, a soft smile lifting your face and your memories.

“I imagine it did,” Toriel agrees, with an appreciative nod. “Speaking of which, is he coming today?” she asks, looking between you and Asgore.

He picks up his tea and says, “I’d like him to.”

“I think so, after he’s done with work,” you say. And then her eyes come alight with delight.

“We should invite Undyne and Alphys over as well. We can have a big dinner,” she cries and claps her paws together, happy and resolute about the afternoon ahead.

“Do you need help?” you ask as she rises and straightens her skirts.

“Oh, I shall be fine, thank you. I am happy to do it,” she grins. You believe her. And applaud her ability and drive to get so much done in such a short amount of time. It’s becoming more and more apparent she really does love to do it. You wonder if she was deprived of that much down in the Underground. But her ensuing sassy, yet kind remark makes you laugh. “But please, keep this old goat company. I will contact our friends.” You meet Asgore’s dancing eyes and deep, rolling laughter, unable to help yourself from joining in.

He holds his cup up to you in salute, smirking. “Yes, thank you for keeping this old goat company.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you say, grinning right back at him.

“Would you like more tea?” he asks, gesturing to your nearly empty cup.

“I’d love some.” A truly joyful expression smoothes his face, yet crinkles the corners of his mouth and eyes. He rises and sits next to you on the expansive couch, pouring both you and himself another round. You toast, glad the business of earlier is gone for the most part.

\----------

“got the answer?” Sans asks, leaning on his elbows and watching Frisk work through the problem with scrunched, concentrated brow.

“Um…. Seventy-two?” they ask hesitantly, hoping with wide eyes they’re right.

“close, kiddo.”

Frisk groans and lays their head on the worksheet with a dull _thunk_. “I always have trouble with the big ones,” they mutter, dejected. Sans smiles, giving them an encouraging ruffle of their messy mop of hair.

“ya like puzzles right?” he asks.

Frisk brightens considerably, raising their head off the table to look wide-eyed at Sans. “Yeah!”

“that’s all math is.”

“Like Papyrus’ puzzles?” they ask, even more excited at the prospect of something not—to their knowledge—very math-related.

“yep,” he says. Papyrus would probably object—and very heartily—but he doesn’t have to know that. “so with the big ones, break ‘em down, a number at a time.” Sans picks up a pencil and goes through an example, very slowly. “try again,” he urges. They go back at it, pencil in hand and goal in sight. He’s gotta give a hand to them, they sure are determined. After a minute or so, they stop to really look at the result they’ve come to, tongue sticking out of their mouth. Toriel strides by, poking Sans on the shoulder and placing a loving pat on Frisk's head.

“solved it?” he asks, smiling as Toriel passes then glancing back at the paper.

Their answer is almost as unsure, but he’s familiar with that expression. He made that decisive look a lot he feels at their age. “Eighty-four?” Sans grins.

“yep, great job, kiddo.”

“ _Yes_ ,” they whisper in victory, fist-pumping to themselves. They start on the next problem in earnest. It…makes Sans miss his own work. Even though it’s simple math, it’s still math. It was something he was always good at, no matter what. He’s not exactly sure of all the reasons why he stopped. Though he is very aware one of them is sitting right next to him. He doesn’t dwell on it long, roused from his internal musings by a soft question from Frisk.

“So you told ___ what happened?”

Sans is surprised how little he’s bothered by their inquiry. They both flick their eyes to the kitchen. Toriel is blissfully, and thankfully, unaware and preoccupied. He responds, just as quiet, “yeah.” They look up at him now, a potent mix of emotions on their young face. Curiosity, awe, and doubt makes them much more mature than they ever should be.

“Was it hard?” they ask.

Sans tilts his skull and meets the brown moons of their eyes. “yes. but i did it.” They grin widely before it falls once more. Their next question is even more timid. It makes Sans raise his brow. As well as putting a twisting knot in his would-be stomach.

“Are you gonna tell Papyrus?”

Now he feels his pupils disappear.

His finger taps the paper hard and severe, and his curt answer is low in his chest. In all honesty, it’s more a warning than anything else. “gotta few more problems, bud.”

“But—”

“kid,” Sans cuts off. “lemme _sum_ it up for ya. just don’t.” Frisk shrinks and goes back to their work. Sans sighs, feeling the weight of remorse start to seep in. He doesn’t want to scare them. He just doesn’t want to talk about that with really anyone except you. And even then…it’s difficult for him, if he can even stand it at all. To be honest, it makes him sick. The last thing in the world he wants to think about is explaining to his brother that they were killed by a child they trusted over and over again. That he killed a child everyone trusted over and over again. That everything Papyrus knew down in the Underground was a cruel, repetitious lie. That the reason he slept so much down there was because both waking and imagined nightmares kept him from any sort of peace. That—that the only reason he got up most days was because of his brother. “’m sorry, frisk.” They look up at him now, forgiveness already plain in their face. They slip their tiny hand in his.

“I’m sorry, too.”

\--------

“So, you are sure your relationship is going alright?” Asgore asks as he sips his tea.

You almost spit yours out.

“Uh, yeah? Why do you ask?” Your face threatens to burn right off of your skull. The only thing keeping you from melting right off the couch is the worry you see in his open face.

He chuckles and pats your knee. “Well, a few things. Your reaction right now, for one,” he teases, winking. You just laugh nervously, trying to shrink down into your scarf as much as possible. What you wouldn’t give, what crime you wouldn’t commit, to be a turtle right about now. His voice lowers a bit as he leans close to you. His long hair—fur?—slides over his shoulder, creating a curtain that effectively hides both you and Asgore and this insane conversation from the side of the house with occupants. “But also…I get the sense you and Sans are not quite…joined yet?” You allow yourself a deep breathe to get ahold of yourself and your emotions, grabbing the reins and reinstalling your firm reign over them. You’ve talked to him more about your relationship and feelings concerning Sans than anyone else, barring Sans himself. So don’t get embarrassed, ___. Not now.

“Joined in what way?” you goad right back, and you’re ecstatic to find him blushing in response, but laughing, hearty and raucous. You chuckle and pat his knee now, putting his own embarrassment to rest. “Now we’re on the same level.”

“Well played, ___,” Asgore admits with an inclination of his horned head.

“But seriously, what do you mean?” you ask, getting back on track.

“I mean with your souls, young one.”

Your brows raise in surprise. “You can tell that? Is this something that comes with age and wisdom?” you tease.

He chuckles, smirking. “It just so happens it does. Could I be so bold as to ask what is keeping you? Is something the matter? I imagine if you love each other, then it would happen, yes?” He holds up his clawed paw. “At least that is the way with monsters, forgive me.”

You purse your lips as you try to think of a way to put your feelings into words. Into something that he might understand and possibly even help with. “It’s not really anything to do with him. But I guess he can’t help but _be_ involved, considering he plays a part,” you add with a roll of your eyes. “I just…I’m scared, I guess, Asgore.” He watches you, patience filling his dark eyes. “Souls are second-nature, if not first-nature, to monsters. So you might not understand. But they’re so new to me. I don’t know what’s going to happen when it does. And that scares me,” you whisper. Your voice dons a stronger coat when you continue, “But that _doesn’t_ mean I love Sans any less.”

“Of course. Sometimes I think the intention is as important as the act itself,” he murmurs. “But I think it is a good sign that you’re nearly there when you say ‘when’.” He smiles. “Knowing that, I think, is the first step.” He laughs now, glancing back conspiratorially at Toriel bustling in the kitchen. “Would you believe I was frightened too?”

“I find it hard to believe you’re scared of anything, Asgore,” you say, chuckling.

“Well, I was. And I’m not afraid to admit _that_ ,” he responds with a wink. “But I think that’s part of the thrill of it. Not exactly knowing what you’re getting into, but going through with it anyway. Because you love them. Because you know, despite all the misgivings and fear, they will be there for you, no matter what.” You don’t miss the faint, long-held sadness that creeps in the corners, sours the edges, if only a little bit. Your hand falls to his, squeezing it briefly. You don’t know if you’re going down a forbidden path, but you think—you _hope_ —that the comfort and ease of conversation you have between you will soften the blow somewhat. Regardless, you’ll be careful of what exactly you say and prod about, that’s for sure.

“You know, it gives me a lot of hope that you and Toriel get along so well. In spite of everything.”

You mean it, more than you probably let on, and definitely more than he knows. Now that you think of it, if they had shared their souls together, what unbelievable hurt it must have caused both of them to be parted from each other. And what unbelievable sorrow for them to experience to even get so desperate. You can’t imagine it and you haven’t even shared your own yet, not fully. It says untold multitudes of the both of them that they can do this and with such civility.

His smile reassures you in your venture. “Yes. It is hard-won, but I am glad of it, too.” You don’t want to go too far, so you steer the conversation in a slightly new direction. One that you think might get his goat.

“Have you got any _friends_ on the horizon?” you ask with a coy sip of your tea.

He barks out a laugh, only blushing the barest bit. “I am more shocked by the fact you think I have time for such things.” He leans close again, eyes glittering in mirth. “But I am flattered you think me capable of finding your aforementioned ‘ _friends’_.”

You elbow his broad arm with a chuckle of your own. “I told you before. You should leave the king business. You’re an eligible bachelor, Asgore. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You grin, honest and genuine now. “I know I’m lucky to know you and have you as a friend.”

He smiles kindly, the determined warmth pushing away the melancholy of before as successfully as it has pushed away your own. “And I hope you realize that, under different circumstances, I would not have pried where I might not have if I hadn't felt the same. I care for your happiness as much as I do for Sans'. Because you can consider the sentiment returned tenfold, ___.”

And that success stays with you through the evening, only multiplying when Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys arrive. With the dinner, cheerful and spirited conversation, and the stolen glances and touches between you and Sans, you almost forget you were even upset before. But as you all trail outside into the cold, night air, watching both the stars and Frisk, Undyne and Papyrus play in the sky and in the yard, you’re reminded. Reminded because Sans sticks right by your side, a small distance away from everyone else. And now the closer you get to talking to Sans about what you were feeling earlier, it only makes you want to avoid it more. It’s kind of ridiculous. You’re ashamed to feel ashamed. The Neverending Story. You’re about to dispel your anxiety and go run around with the rest of them when Sans grabs your hand, stilling you and cutting off your escape. He grins at you with a sly, knowing look.

“keep me company,” he says, edging around his circling questions. You shove your other hand in your jacket pocket, returning to your place by his side. His fingers massage yours gently and you feel the heat of his magic warming it. You sigh. Now or never, ___.

“I felt ashamed,” you whisper.

His fingers pause for the briefest of moments before he asks, “why?”

“That I couldn’t do anything downtown. That I didn’t do anything,” you respond, quiet.

“none of us could do anything, babe.”

“You guys can’t use your magic. I don’t even have that excuse. And if you can’t defend yourselves, then I should defend you. God, from my own kind at least,” you hiss. Tears slide unbidden and unwanted down your cheeks. You look up into that endless blackness, the chill freezing to your salt-stricken face. You hastily wipe them away, angry you even let yourself get this emotional about it. It’s not like you haven’t thought about this before, particularly right after everything happened. You suspect it’s just saying it at all to the person you care most about that really gets to you. Sans tucks you close against his side and looks over to you, meeting your eyes straight on.

“you shouldn’t feel guilty about what others humans do. or even did,” he adds quietly. “not really your responsibility, babe. if it was…heh, that’d make our relationship a little awkward wouldn’t it?”

You laugh, loud and rhythmic now, slowly shredding away the sorrow and doubt and blinking rapidly. He smiles at the sound and waves his other hand around, like he’s batting away his own thoughts.

“anyways. i’m glad you didn’t,” he admits softly. “he had a knife. we don’t know what coulda happened. nothin’ good.” He lifts your joined hands and places them in his hoodie pocket. His other grasps them as well. “i’m selfish, ___. i don’t wanna risk you getting hurt to prove a point. ‘s not worth it. i’m _not_ willing to give up your safety for that. ‘cause all that really matters when you fight, is who wins and who loses.” He’s right, you realize. And a frightening thought inserts itself into your mind. He would know more than most. His fingers trail around your wrist and the soft skin there. You swear that small touch warms up the rest of you right then and there. “we gotta pick our battles carefully now, babe, even though we both know that we _both_ want to fight all of 'em. but that one wouldn’t have solved anything.” He refocuses on you, smiling. “so it’s ok to feel ashamed. i do sometimes. but it just means you’re _alive_. and you care.”

You’re quiet a moment before letting out a wet chuckle. “You sure you wanna be a scientist? You’d be a good motivational speaker.”

He laughs at that, holding you tight. “nah, better with numbers than words.”

You lean close and hold your lips to his temple. You mutter, teasing, “I suppose you are. Thank you.” You feel him sigh long and deep under you and it relaxes you. “Speaking of, how was teaching Frisk? That was a whole ‘nother level of adoooorable,” you say in a singsong manner, glad you’re onto lighter stuff. He laughs and his body shakes against yours.

“easy-peasy.” He pauses. “they, uh, asked if i’d told paps anything yet….” Your brows raise at the same time your mouth opens. Maybe you were wrong about the lighter stuff. “but, heh, it didn’t _subtract_ from the experience, i guess.” You huff a tiny laugh as you look out to the scattered groups.

“Well…while they’re distracted, did you wanna talk about what you might say?” you offer. You honestly don’t know if he’ll accept it or not. You know Sans, and you love him, but this is a tender subject that you still don’t have the full measure of confidence in navigating.

His resulting chuckles are a bit too wild to put you safely in the realm of ease. “do we gotta? i’d really rather not.”

Your hand squeezes his inside his hoodie pocket. “No, we don’t. Just, luck favors the prepared is all I’m saying, babe.”

His snort is almost derisive. He mutters without thinking, “luck doesn’t favor anybody.” By some miracle, he stops himself from adding _least of all me._

You’re kind of taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone, catching yourself from falling down the hate spiral with him. You haven’t heard him speak so scornfully since everything came to light. Or when he talks about Moore. You know he’s scared though. You don’t even need to acknowledge the encroaching hollowness you feel pressing on your chest. You’re resolved to keep his head above water, though. Like he did yours just moments before.

“I think it does,” you say conversationally. “It favored me. I found two matching socks this morning. _Two_ , Sans. Just the perfect amount for my feet.” You give him a sidelong, happy glance. His laughing has evened out into something more gentle, more…present. “And I found you. I’d say I’m pretty damn lucky for that.” You both turn your heads to look at each other now. You have no trace of mockery or dishonesty in your eyes, and he finds none. It softens him, smoothes out the rough edges from the cutting he was delivered earlier from just a few, small words from a very small human.

“shit, i’m sorry, ___,” he whispers to you. “didn’t mean to be so…caustic and cynical.”

“Well…I think if anyone had the right to be, it’d be you.”

“still, you’re right though. i’m _so_ lucky to be with you. i shouldn’t ever forget that.” He grins at you, pulling you even closer. “don’t let me forget it.”

You smile right back. “I won’t.”

“so _two_ socks? really? something’s _afoot_ ‘cause that’s new for you,” he teases after a short break of stargazing together.

You laugh in shock, a devilish smirk twisting your mouth. “Why I oughtta…,” you growl, looping an arm around his neck and unearthing your other hand to give him a good, well-deserved noogie. He dissolves into full-bellied laughter, compliant in your arms. That is until it garners the wrath of a particularly intimidating and buff fish monster.

“Hey that’s MY job!” Undyne shouts. She starts sprinting over and you let go of Sans in dismay and near-genuine fear.

He just laughs more, pushing you off and saying lovingly, “give ‘em the what-for, undyne,” before teleporting off to the others. You barely have time to gain your bearings before you take off with Undyne hot on your heels, squealing for Papyrus’ help at the same time you cry for retribution against Sans.

It does a good job of putting some things behind you both for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one for you guys! Thank you again for all your zany kindness and comments and support <3
> 
> Timblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	50. DRABBLE: As We Know It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeey my BBs! And happy heckin' anniversary to Undertale! What I wouldn't do for that game.
> 
> Or skeletons.
> 
> But in all honesty, I owe a lot to it. Certainly my growth as an artist and writer. Hell, not to mention this story and Good Bad Vibes. There aren't many things out there that have inspired me the way UT has, and I'll be grateful for the lifetime I will spend down in this pit. So, I don't really know if it's celebratin', but I've had [an incredibly self-indulgent story] a drabble/idea written for a while now that I just couldn't get outta my head. AND it's been 50 chapters of this??? So that's something to celebrate too. 
> 
> (sorry it's not a chapter of litbm itself, but I'm still a little slow. It'll get done soon, no worries)
> 
> Anyways. You DON'T have to read this and IT'S COMPLETELY SEPARATE FROM LITBM so you can skip it or do whatever you want with it. But I wanted to share it. And for those of you who do read, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I'm sure you'll recognize the inspiration.

There’s nothing to it really. Just jump. Just a series of muscles flexing, one doesn’t even really have to use their brain. The human crouches, their jacket snapping in the breeze. Seems like the only sound for miles. The wind trails down, winding through the open and cracked street to a trickling creek below. It wouldn’t hurt to fall, it’s not that steep of a drop. They’re cautious nonetheless. Not being careful can so easily get someone killed. Their keen eyes narrow in on their target, a wooden pallet maybe four feet away. Sweat beads along a round face. Despite their lean body only holding well-used muscle, the fat never truly left those cheeks, softening the edges of a harsh life. A hard life earned and learned by the multitude of scars on their body and the focus and stubborn will of their mind. They take a few steps back and hop on the balls of their feet. A rough pack slaps a taut back. Once, twice, and then the human sprints to the edge, jumping off with a strong kick. They sail through the hot air and what they wouldn’t give to just be a bird and leave in that moment.

The pallet teeters on the brink of instability as the human lands on top of it with a crack that echoes vibrantly across the deserted plane. Their arms whirl, trying in a desperate attempt to right themself.

“Shitshitshit…,” you hiss.

The air hangs, watching. Then a hefty, but relieved sigh signals success. You step off and your heavy boots scuff along the dirty ground, a smile lifting your chapped lips. Dry. You open your weathered canteen. Scratched into it, in some semblance of order and control, is the name: **_____**. You take a quick swig, then pour a little into a cap. Just then a large, coal-black raven alights on your shoulder, about two feet long from beak to tail with a wingspan about twice that you guess. His glossy feathers gleam blue and purple in the dying light as he shakes his wings and digs his talons in.

“Hey, Otto. Thirsty, too?”

His dark, intelligent eyes scan your face before dipping his thick beak into the water, drinking it up. Otto gives you a throaty, thankful croak and plucks at your earlobe gently. You chuckle. You’ve come to assume this is his version of a kiss. You cap the canteen and secure it back around your hip, right next to a long and wicked bowie knife. Its sharp twin sits on the top of your belt at the small of your back. Circling around to the other hip is a pistol. Not to mention the stash you have in the shifting, worn canvas backpack. Can never have enough weapons.

Not out here.

You continue walking along the desolate, and achingly empty, cityscape. It’s just a skeleton now, having long since been abandoned. The broken concrete and brick facades jut out of the weeding ground, geometric ribs that cast long and ruinous shadows across the streets. Those veins, the lifeblood of the town, are now just broken, empty channels. Dust litters the wind. Dust that claims the city, naming all of its former and temporary inhabitants. A baptism of heat and rust and dirt. The fucking Rune it’s hot. You love the attention of the wind though, close cropped hair flicking and dancing with it in the afternoon light. Your chest rises and falls deeply as you soak up the sun, that heat that reminds you so much of life, especially in a world so full of death and uncertainty nowadays. You wipe the sweat from your face and exhale heavily. At least you’re as prepared as you can be. If not, well…it’s nobody’s fault but your own. And all in all, you’ve turned out luckier than most. You’re alive, relatively healthy, and have a companion. Despite being just a bird, Otto is an incredibly smart one. And he talks. Well, as much as a bird can. He…responds. Knows how to react, get things, alert you if the need arises.

And it does. Often. Like right now.

Otto’s head swivels and he puffs up, a ringing caw beating upon your ear before he takes off. His wing knocks your head with a snap. You curse. It hurts, but only because he wants you to know danger is near. Dread sinks inside you, thick and sinister. You crouch behind a building, back pressed to the cool brick, ears straining to listen. You hear footsteps and instinct causes you to unsheathe your knife. It’s heavy in your hand. You try to breathe evenly, but all that hisses past your dry lips are short, spastic breaths. Your heart flutters in your chest, like Otto’s feathers in the wind. A drumbeat that’s growing steadily louder and faster. Now’s not the time to be scared. But…it never gets easier it seems. There are multiple pairs; some are slow, some quicker. No clicking, thank god. You just need to get a quick look, see what you’re up against and if it can be avoided. Maybe just Runners this time. You take a step, creeping ever closer to the corner.

The steps halt and retreat.

Except for one pair.

They’re slow, but that’s all you can make out, the wind and your heartbeat too loud in your ears. Sweat slides down your dirty face and your hand itches to wipe it away. But your body won't even allow _that_. You vaguely hear Otto call again as he circles overhead. Your mind wanders irresponsibly. No wonder ravens get such a bad wrap. They always seem to bring portents. Whether good or bad, it’s up for debate. You feel stretched, too thin, ready to snap from the stress. And then you do, because the steps pound to your hiding place. Thought is gone; all that’s left is instinct. The kind that screams and rends the fibers of your being: _IT'S EITHER YOU OR THEM_. You spring, knife raised, a cry on your lips.

And then you can’t move. A tremendous weight seems to slam into your chest, but from the inside out and an abrupt thought pushes its way to the forefront of your stunned mind.

_Is this how I go?_

It’s been a good run. You give one last look at your infected killer. However, they are neither of those things.

They aren’t infected.

You’re not dead.

Your eyes widen and you gasp, taking in the striking and devilish visage of an actual, walking, honest-to-fucking-goodness skeleton. Their sockets are dark except for the left. It’s flaming, a monstrous blue and yellow eye, flashing and dangerous. Your eyes follow his jacketed arm out to his clawed hand, where at the tips, sits what looks to be a heart-shaped crystal. On the outside is a solid blue sheen, thicker than glass, but on the inside, roiling, is a midnight purple. The kind you always saw in the nebulas of the night sky or at the very end of the day when the fat sun has just dipped below that wayward horizon. It reminds you of the late and relaxed sunset on a Saturday, back when Saturdays had meaning. You’ve heard the stories. Monsters have been on the surface long enough. Long enough to see everything go to shit.

A halting chuckle slips past your lips. Your voice is nothing more than a whisper to the wind.

“S-so that’s what it l-looks like, huh.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm TRASH
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	51. Dogs Are Actually the Best Medicine

**_Bzzzzt_ **

**_Bzzzzt_ **

**_Bzzzzt_ **

Your hand whips out almost of its own volition, nearly knocking the lamp off the night stand. Once your fingers close around the little, offensive metal block, you unearth your head from the pillow and bring it close.

“’Ello?” you answer, voice thick and groggy.

Sans grumbles next to you, shifting and wrapping his arms around your body more securely.

“Heya, ___. It’s Sully. Sorry if I woke ya up.” The deep voice on the other line laughs, and you’re not entirely sure he’s actually sorry about waking you up.

“Nah, ‘sup?” you ask. You would usually talk more like a normal person, especially to someone you don’t know as well as your other friends, but he can deal with it. He wakes you up, he has to deal with the consequences of his decision. That being any grumpiness and short, chopped sentences. They could hardly be called sentences at all at this rate.

“I was hopin' you could take care of Morna today? Something came up rather quick that I didn’t plan for and I’ll be gone a while.” Sully sounds a bit annoyed. It makes you raise your torso off the bed and engage more of your brain and senses to the conversation.

“Yeah, sure, Sully. Everything ok?” Sans’ hands take advantage of your new position, slipping underneath your shirt and around to your front. If he wasn’t awake before, he is now. Not like you mind what he’s doing. In fact, it’s so distracting and too close to being ticklish for your comfort. You bite your lip and try to roll and squirm to grab his hand in a vain effort to stop him.

“Yeah, no worries. Mind if I come over in an hour to drop her off?”

“’Course. But oh! Don’t go to my apartment. ‘M not there,” you say and give him Sans’ address instead. You fail in stopping Sans’ hands. They snap closed around your own, trapping it and going about their business. The new, awkward position has you almost face-first in your pillow and you have to try very hard to be audible and not laugh at the same time. You’re not that successful, because his fingers pinch your stomach and a short bark leaves you.

Sully laughs on the other line and you go red in the face. You give thanks when he doesn’t acknowledge it, saying, “I’ll see ya in an hour, ___.”

“OkbyeSully!” you answer hurriedly. You end the call and throw your phone on the table, unable to control your giggles anymore. You twist in Sans’ arms, desperate for relief. “Sans! Quit it!” you cry out. 

“no,” he says, his own gravelly voice sleepy yet rolling with ill-hid laughter.

“No more kisses until you stop!” you threaten.

To your surprise, he does, whining his disagreement and rolling onto his back. “fine. cheater,” he pouts. He’s still grinning, though he has his sockets closed. You sigh, your abdomen twitching from the tickling and your own laughter. “c’mere,” Sans says and holds up his arms. You grin and slide over, letting your torso lie on top of his ribcage. Your arms circle his skull and hold you up partially. Sans opens his sockets at the same time his arms find well-known homes around your body. His hands make their way under your shirt again, rubbing your back and spine; tickling, but not in an obtrusive way. Rather, in a way that makes you tingle all over and heat up from the inside out. The lights of his eyes brighten in the still dim room. It must be pretty early. You kind of wish you could keep sleeping honestly. But you’ll take this moment. This sweet, intimate snapshot where it’s just you and Sans and nothing else. You bend your head, mouth meeting his halfway. It’s a soft kiss. One that reminds as well as one that promises.

“Morning,” you murmur.

“mmm,” is all he says back. It makes you chuckle, your lips buzzing against his teeth. You pull back and your fingers scratch his skull. He hums and stretches underneath you, enjoying every stroke. “do we gotta get up?” he groans. You laugh and place another kiss to his face.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can keep sleeping.” His bones rattle as a tremendous yawn seizes him.

“might take ya up on that,” he says with a tired chuckle.

“Go for it, babe. I’ll make coffee for when you decide to rise with the rest of us.”

He pulls you back down for another kiss, this one more intense than the last. “thanks,” he says with a satisfied grin, his sockets already closing. You pat his cheekbones and lift yourself off his chest to sit on the edge of the bed. You stretch your own body now, back creaking its objection from your yawn. You look back and see one bright eye-light gazing at you. Sans’ grin only widens before his socket slips closed once more. Your smile echoes his, having a good guess what he’s thinking. And probably wanting too. But it’ll just have to wait for now. You stand and pull on some sweats, a better shirt, and one of Sans’ hoodies. Your hair tumbles and stacks around your neck and the hood, messy and mussed. You don’t really care if you don’t look your best for Sully. He can deal. You cross the room and when you open the door, you hear a quiet mumble sound out in the otherwise still bedroom.

“love you.”

You turn, that smile still on your face. “Love you too, skeledude,” you say, your heart beating as fast as the first time you heard those words.

You hear a snort before you leave and then shut the door behind you. You open the curtains in the living room and go about making the coffee, pouring yourself a cup once it’s done. You inhale the savory, roasted scent and stand behind the couch, your body slightly swaying from being in autopilot. You’re always in a sort of daze before you manage to get at least one cup in you. But as the sun comes up, bathing the yard and house in a soft, hazy glow, you start to become more awake. And so does the house. In the early morning hours, it always seems to hold its breath. But when the sun peeks out over the horizon, rising and dancing between the trees, the house relaxes, groaning and stretching with the heat. It looks cold outside though, the dew reflecting sharp and clear on the grass. You think you even spot some frost on the cars. Your feet definitely feel the chill. You move around the couch and plop down into the cushions, tucking your cold feet underneath you. You debate turning on the TV, but you don’t want to wake up Sans again. You enjoy just watching the world wake up and, soon, the stomping around of Papyrus just as much anyway.

Eventually the taller skeleton brother does emerge, energetic as usual. You wish you had that kind of pep every morning. And only an infinitesimal part of you wishes that coffee wasn’t vital to facilitating that.

He steps into the living room, and when he sees you he lets out a small exclamation. You chuckle and wave, laughing at his surprise. It’s not every day you wake up early. Especially not since you and Sans got together. Your sleep schedules kind of merged when that happened. To neither’s detriment, you think with a happy smirk.

“Good morning, friend!” Papyrus says, patting you on the head when he walks by. He tries to talk in hushed tones, but it’s still about normal volume. You think Sans is probably used to that by now anyway.

“Morning, Paps.”

“Why are you awake so early? That is very unusual for you.” He bends over the couch to give you a sly look. “But I see that Sans is not, which is _not_ unusual.”

You laugh, covering your mouth and the majority of your giggles. “Sully is coming over to drop off Morna. I hope that’s ok. If not, I’ll take her back to my place.”

He straightens like a shock went down his spine, throwing his arms about wildly. “OF COURSE NOT!” he shouts. He claps his hands over his mouth and looks with wide eyes at Sans’ room. You can’t help but laugh. Sans will sleep through anything. “When is he coming over?” he asks, quieter.

“In about thirty minutes I think.”

“Great! I shall wait before going to work!” he exclaims before walking into the kitchen. “Would you like breakfast?”

You twist and hang partway off the back of the couch, watching Papyrus putter about the cabinets, pots, and pans. You feel the twinge of hunger pangs in the pit of your stomach. “Actually, yes, please.”

“Of course!” he calls from his place in the kitchen. Breakfast is ready in almost no time at all and you go to sit and eat at the table with Papyrus.

A throaty rumble begins to echo and you both perk up, tugged out of your daydreaming by a familiar jeep pulling up to the house. You and Papyrus share a broad grin as you make your way to the door. You catch Sully following a sprinting Morna up to the house and it only makes you smile wider. Papyrus opens the door wide before Sully can even knock.

Morna wastes no time in nearly bowling you over.

You laugh, almost overtaken when she jumps up on you, her long body easily reaching your height. She tries licking your face, but you push her off, saying, “Hey there, Morna.” You look past her and see Sully grinning in the doorway. “Morning, Sully.”

“Morning, ___. Papyrus,” he says, waving. “Sorry for springin’ this on ya so quick. I appreciate it. And I know Morna does too,” he chuckles.

“No problem,” you say. “Do you have things for her?”

“Yeah.” He jerks a thumb to his jeep. “They’re in the back. I might be back before you need them, but I’m not sure yet.”

“I’ll help you get them.” Papyrus starts to play with Morna while you grab your keys and follow Sully to his car. “So you sounded pretty annoyed earlier?” you hedge with a subtle smile. You’re actually very curious what caused such a rush in the first place. You’re not complaining, more than happy to spend time with Morna and help out Sully. He’s been an incredibly kind friend to you so far, and you’re nothing if not loyal to those close to you. For what he's doing to help you all, you think he deserves anything you can give. Sully laughs and shakes his head as he opens the back hatch.

“Can’t say I’m too thrilled about it. But it’ll be fine. Putting out fires and all that.”

That does nothing to satisfy your curiosity whatsoever. You grab the bowls and he grabs the food. You gesture to your truck. “We’ll put it here for now, ‘cause we’ll be going back to my place at some point today. You can pick her up there whenever you’re done.”

You open the door and both place the stuff inside. You’re both walking up to the house when he says, “Thanks, ___. Really.”

“Of course.” You meet those warm, green eyes for a moment. Your piqued interest finds itself quelled by a surprising amount of concern. Fires for him are most likely very different than fires for you. Stronger, wilder, more dangerous. “Be careful whatever you’re doing, Sully.”

“Will do. Take care of my girl,” he responds with an equally warm, and most importantly, confident smile. He claps his hands together, spying around to see if he was forgetting anything. “Ah!” he shoots a finger gun to the house. “And say hey to Sans for me.”

“You got it.” You stand back and watch him straighten, pulling himself up to his full and frankly intimidating height.

He calls, “Morna.” It’s short, sharp, and commanding. She immediately bounds up to him, staring up with those large, intelligent eyes. “Be good and take care of our friends, alright?” He points to you and asks, “You got that?” She barks, focusing on the both of you. You just observe, amazed. Papyrus stands equally enthralled at your side. “That’s a good girl.” She yips and jumps, landing a long, wet lick on his face. He just laughs and scratches her face and neck vigorously. “That’s my good girl,” he says once more. He unwinds and waves to you and Papyrus before leaving.

You’re about to go back inside, but Papyrus speaks up. “I must get to work as well, but have a great day, friend! And bye NEW friend!” he says to Morna, petting her on her long head.

“See ya later, Paps,” you say, standing with Morna while he heads off, too. You shove your hands in your hoodie pockets and say, “Guess it’s just you and me, Morna.” She just looks up at you with a happy, lolling grin. “And I guess the lazybones, too,” you add, ushering her back inside the house. Morna immediately begins to scope out the place, weaving her massive body between furniture and sniffing every inch of the house. You grab another cup of coffee while she does her thing. Eventually you wander back out into the living room and see her sitting in front of Sans’ room, sniffing the ground and the lower part of the doorframe. She rolls her head back to look at you with one dark eye.

“Wanna go in?”

Her tail wags.

You laugh. It’s gonna be a rude awakening for Sans. But…it’s payback for earlier, you reason. You stroke one of her wiry ears before opening the door. Morna shoots into the room like an arrow and you follow. Sans is curled up under the covers, fast asleep. You almost feel bad for waking him up like this, the sight being so sweet to you. But you take an evil delight in it as well. He’d probably do the same thing to you. Morna circles around the bed like a shark. Still sniffing around for the moment. Her nails tick along the hardwood and your grin gets ever wider the more she finishes. She raises her head and lays her snout on the bed, sniffing this way and that. You don’t have to say anything because she takes it upon herself to jump up on the bed.

And right onto Sans.

He snaps awake, shouting, “what?!” before he notices the great grey wolfhound laying on top of him. He groans and slumps back down into the pillows and sheets. He covers his face with the pillow when Morna tries to lick him. She’s not deterred, going for his hand instead, her tail wagging all the while. You double over laughing.

“ha ha,” Sans drawls through the pillow. Morna yips and stretches in response, making the bed her new home.

“I thought it was pretty funny, too,” you tease, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Morna wiggles closer, extending out her long neck to commandeer your hand now. You scratch her ears and her tails wags even more. The shifting causes Sans to groan and you to laugh again.

“the funny bone was tickled i’m sure,” he mutters, strained, trying to make himself comfortable with an upwards of 90 pounds of wolfhound on top of him. You can't stop laughing, hovering over him and removing the pillow. He opens one socket to look up at you blearily. But the pupil is bright, full of love as much as sleep.

“Tickled pink, even?”

His grin widens and you’re torn between the urge to kiss that mouth or just keep watching that dumb face you love so much.

He winks and smirks. “i’d say it’s more…blue.”

“Are you _azure_ about that?” you tease.

He lets out a bark of laughter that terminates in a long yawn. “good one,” he finally manages to get out.

“I try.” You turn to Morna who welcomes your pets with happy, warbling chattering. It makes you giggle and you hear Sans laugh too. “I was thinking of taking Morna to the park. I think she’ll enjoy that. Don’tcha, ya cute patoot,” you coo to her shaggy face. She manages to land a swift lick to your nose, making you chuckle.

“want me to go with ya?” Sans asks.

“You don’t have to. You can stay sleeping if you want.” You hear him hum and you turn your gaze to look at him. His mouth falls while his brow creases. Something foreign begins to skitter its way through you, invading your heart. You feel…wary. “What?” you ask, wondering why his mood took such a turn.

“you’ll be ok?”

That near-blinding wave of realization crashes over you; a lightbulb in the dark. You know he was cautious before, especially after everything that happened, but that was a while ago. Or at least it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened in the meantime and you thought things were getting better. Even after the fight. But is he really still worried? Should he be? Should _you_ be?

“Babe, are you still worried?” you ask, settling down on the edge of the bed again.

He looks off, like he’s been caught. “no,” he mumbles.

“Sans,” you coax. He just sighs and looks at you out of the corner of his eye-socket. “This is what this adorable dog is here for,” you say while scratching Morna’s ears. “She’ll be there. Doubt she’ll have to do anything other than run around and be a dog.”

“sure ‘bout that?” he retorts.

“Pretty sure. We can’t keep tempting fate by thinking and expecting things to happen. Or else they will,” you say with a shrug.

He raises a brow. “didn’t peg ya as the superstitious type, babe.”

You give him a small, crooked smile. “Dunno. Like, the rational part of me knows things are gonna happen a certain way regardless. But…I’ve seen and felt a lot of things that I can’t explain. And looking back, if I had trusted my instincts on certain things before, who knows what would’ve been different.” You pause and meet Sans’ curious gaze. He doesn’t say anything, only listens. “I just think it’s easier to _live_ life, than be afraid of it.”

“so you’re not afraid that something else can happen?”

“Well sure I am. It’d be stupid not to after what happened. It was fuckin’ scary. But I won’t let them keep me from living my life or doing what _I_ want because of their shitty problems.” You chuckle and smirk, leaning closer to him. “I can be very vindictive.” He shares in it, breaking the deep lines in the bones of his face.

You throw your arms wide now. “I’ve made up my mind. Since I can’t do anything else, _this_ is how I retaliate.”

He snorts and places his arm underneath his head, pillowing his skull. “by not giving a shit?” he teases.

You huff out a laugh. “Yep. If they’re not gonna give a shit about me, why the hell would I give a shit about them?”

“’cause they can hurt you,” he murmurs quietly after a moment.

“Or anyone else.” You sigh and your mind wanders back to that heated argument. “It’s the only way I know how to deal with it, Sans. I know you probably think it’s stupid or I’m not being serious. But I am. I don’t want to be hurt any more than I want you or Papyrus to be. I’m trusting you, I’m trusting Sully, and I’m trusting Morna. It’s the only thing I can do.”

His hand appears to grab yours, your fingers tangling together. “i don’t think it’s stupid. and i know you’re being serious. i just…,” he growls in mild frustration. “old habits die hard.”

You bring up your intertwined hands to your mouth, kissing his hard knuckles. You say, “Just don’t let it control you, baby. We’re here for each other; same team right? And I’ll be safe.”

Sans smiles now. He knows he shouldn’t always be scared just as much as he knows how quickly things can turn for the worse. He’s torn, split ragged and unclean right down the middle. He thought he was feeling better about it all, and he doesn’t doubt that you thought so too. But this will be the first time you’re truly out and about, more or less by yourself after the incident. The first time with Morna, definitely. He can’t help but feel unsure about it. But…it’s like you said. He’s going to have to trust in you, Morna, and Sully. Trust that everything will be ok. It’s really the only thing _he_ can do.

He can’t say he’s particularly happy to open the door to that old helpless feeling again.

He starts, “call—”

“If I need anything,” you finish with a knowing grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THIS IS LATE
> 
> I'm sorry. Life has been kinda clazy lately and taking a bit of a break has been refreshing. It won't be so long a wait next update. I'm not going to make any promises about a specific set time, 'cause I hate making promises I might not be able to keep (Sans is my self-insert COUGHHACKWHEEZE). Suffice to say, it will not be weeks. Just keep a big ole peeper out for it. 
> 
> As always, you rock my socks.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	52. DRABBLE: Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ANOTHER DRABBLE
> 
> It's about Asgore this time. I've always wondered how he turned out immediately following the events of ut. So, this is my musing on the thought. 
> 
> I'm sorry it's not an actual litbm chap. Though....I guess you could maybe think of it connecting vaguely. A pre-chap. 
> 
> ENJOY THO
> 
> Oh, and also, I'll be compiling all of my drabbles into a masterpost of sorts on here as well. Dunno what it'll be called, but it'll be somethin'.

_These hands_.

_Could I have…?_

_What kind of hands are these?_

Asgore looks out onto a vista that, if he were anyone else, any other monster, it might’ve taken his breath away. It tries. With every true ray of sunlight, with every brush of chilled wind, and with every clear breath of fresh air, it tries. However, almost in spite of the beauty before him, everything seems to be painted in this unrelenting shade of grey.

And highlighted by red.

_And what kind of monster are they attached to?_

~~~

_Tired._

That’s a feeling that frequents his body nowadays. He’s tired. Compared to everything before, this could be considered the home stretch. It’s not without its difficulty, though. There are meetings as far as the eye can see. And now, as he’s up on the surface, they stretch all the way to the horizon. He has to push forward though. If not for himself, then for those who count on him. He’s determined to do right by them, make up for what he’s done, for what he wasn’t able to do.

_And maybe…._

His dark eyes meet deceptively cold, reddish-violet ones. Anger is all he sees. She looks away first.

~~~

“It’s not safe.”

“Do _not_ tell me what is and is not safe! I _know_. I have not needed your help in a very long time and I do not need it now,” Toriel hisses.

His fatigue begins to give way. Slipping. Replaced.

“Tori—”

“Do not call me Tori.”

He grits his teeth, his fangs beginning to protrude as he grimaces.

“Toriel, I only want you and Frisk safe.”

She scoffs, “Was that before or after you tried to kill them?”

“ _Toriel!_ ” he roars. “I am _trying!_ Does that not count for _anything?_ ”

She leaves without another word. He just sinks into the chair while his clawed hands rise to hide his face. Hide the tears that fall and plaster down his fur. He closes his eyes, but he still can’t get those small faces out of his mind.

~~~

He’s not so sure about this. Much less about…anything.

But a party?

He believes it’s good for morale, for his friends. But he feels very much the opposite of a party right now. He does want to see everyone.

_Even if some don’t want to see me._

He shakes his head and shoulders. He should be there. And it’s that decision that lands him amidst a group of very happy monsters and humans alike. As he looks to his friends, he begins to feel some measure of their mood; the ecstatic and excited Undyne and Papyrus—two peas in a pod if he ever saw any—the calm, nearly-bored Sans, the nervous happiness of Alphys, and of course Frisk and Toriel. He doesn’t linger for long on her, though part of him wishes it. Their interactions, when necessary, have been rocky at best.

So he steers clear.

It’s warm. The sun beats down and heats his fur, his spiraling horns casting long shadows over the yard. Even this seems like a meeting. Greeting everyone who comes up, shaking hands, discussing things he’d rather leave for another time entirely. After the last couple leaves to go mingle somewhere else, he rubs his face and beard, sighing heavily.

“what’s with the long face?”

Asgore’s hand drops, as well as his gaze, swiftly toward the diminutive skeleton by his side.

“Hello, Sans.”

“how’s the weather up there?” Sans asks with a broad grin.

Asgore smiles faintly and looks back up into the sky. “Sunny.”

“really? seems a little cloudy from way down here.” Sans holds up his hand in front of his face, shielding it from the sun as he winks at Asgore. He chuckles, dark eyes scanning the crowds. Unfortunately, they meet Toriel’s eyes. Those warm orbs turn into an icy glare. He looks back down into his drink, gritting his teeth.

Sans whistles low. “and cold.” Asgore grimaces.

Some more people walk up to them both and Asgore straightens, keeping himself together to do his duty. He’s about to open his mouth and greet them, but Sans interjects. He pushes past the tall monster, holding up his hands.

“heya fellas. ya don’t have drinks? such a shame, they’re right over there. made by the former queen herself, alright.” Sans guides them smoothly the other way, not giving them time to think or object. Asgore stares, amused and impressed. And thankful. “ya like jokes, too? well, i gotta few, but i know a guy who has the best ones, that tall, cool skeleton over there. yep, just say sans sent ya,” he says, chuckling and winking. Both monsters watch them walk away, before Sans takes his place beside Asgore once again.

“Thanks,” Asgore whispers.

Sans shrugs, a lazy smile lifting the bones of his face. “everyone needs a break sometimes.” His smile widens. “'specially me.” He points to the cup in Asgore’s large hand. “needa refill?”

Asgore glances at his near-empty drink. “It is alright. I can get more, myself. Thank you, Sans.”

Sans just chuckles and suddenly the cup is out of his hand, floating over to Sans’. He’s about to walk off for more when he pauses. “it’s ok to ask for help sometimes, too.” He leaves for the drink table and his increasingly loudening brother.

Asgore shoves his hands into his pockets, glad for the lull. The claws of his right hand tick along something hard and thin, something he can’t remember putting there. He pulls it out. His brow knits as he reads it, eyes flitting between the small card and Sans. The card turns end over end.

The same could be said of his thoughts.

~~~

Asgore wrings his paws together, feeling very foolish on the undersized couch. Undersized for him, he supposes. He couldn’t fit in the chair.

“I am not sure where to begin. I have never done this before.”

A chuckle. “Well, let’s just look at your paperwork.” Some pages flip. The woman’s kind eyes scan the words, assessing, searching. Ms. Dunn, he remembers. She looks up. “Mr. Asgore-”

“Just Asgore, please, Ms. Dunn.” he interjects with a soft smile. She returns it.

“Alright, Asgore. You can call me Jo, by the way.” His smile broadens a bit. She continues, “Why are you here?” His face falls.

“For help,” he answers, almost immediately.

“What do you need help with?”

“I…,” he stops, thinking. “I am not happy. Though I feel I should be.”

“Why do you feel you should be?”

He raises a brow at her. “Is it not obvious?”

She smiles again. It eases him somewhat. “Maybe. But I’d rather you tell me.”

He looks down. His claws dig into the fur of his hands. “Well, we are on the surface now. That is something to be happy about. And…I am. In a way.”

“But not the way you expected?”

“I suppose.”

“Has something happened since being on the surface that might cause you to be unhappy?”

“Not quite.”

“Before then?” she asks.

He opens his mouth to speak but finds no words. So he nods, his towering horns sweeping the air.

“Does it involve loved ones?”

He nods again after a moment.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s not sure if he’s even mentioned his name once since it happened. A part of him knows he should. But, even after decades of time, the pain seems as fresh as ever. And that’s why he shakes his head, unable to say anything because he’s afraid his sorrow will truly betray him the moment he opens his mouth. He can’t look up when she speaks again.

“That’s alright.” But he does when she asks, “What do you like to do?”

He clears his throat. “Do?”

“Like a hobby or activity.”

He smiles, weak and sheepish.

“I enjoy gardening.”

~~~

And so he gardens. And meets with Jo. Months pass by. He takes care of the flowers, tends to them with a gentleness that is so at odds with the violent acts those same hands have done. They turn their bright faces to the sun and, soon, he finds he sees those faces slowly replacing the ones he’s desperately tried to forget. He discovers a kind of solace in his routine. He can take care of these things. Keep them alive, prevent them from dying. Show them love. He doesn’t have to think much when he’s outside. He sees his friends quite often now, which he enjoys greatly.

But he likes the quiet.

It was so loud in his head, anger and revenge and a multitude of other poisonous thoughts clamoring for attention, crowding him day in and day out in the Underground. He thinks he might have resigned himself to never hearing silence ever again. Unless he willed it.

But he wasn’t strong enough even for that.

And now. The hot breeze stirs his long hair, breaking around his horns, teasing his shirt and fur. There’s a hint of smoke and something sweet in the air. He raises a hand to his brow for some shade. The sun is so bright. The flowers so yellow.

~~~

_Today’s the day_.

He stares up at the crisp red lettering of the sign he’s so accustomed to seeing now, every Saturday. He was feeling ok. Good, even. But now, that cornered, fearful part of him – growing less and less every day – tries to whittle down his resolve. He pushes it away. It’s like Jo said, only he can make the choices and changes he wants to make. He’s a king, damn the Rune. He’s done it for long enough. And he’s kept this to himself for long enough. So he steps inside.

A pair of reddish-violet eyes focus, examining. They flick up to the sign.

Asgore makes himself comfortable on the couch once again.

“How are you today Asgore?”

“I am well, and yourself?”

“Just fine,” Jo says with a smile. “So what would you like to talk about today?”

His fingers lace together. “I would like to talk about what happened.”

Her eyes widen imperceptibly, but she nods, her smile softening. “Are you sure?” He nods. “What made you decide?” she asks.

“I cannot hide in the dark any longer.”

She just inclines her head. “Go ahead, Asgore. I’m listening.”

“I have given it a lot of thought. I…I have done many things I am not proud of. But those all began a-after…,” he pauses and he can’t stop the tremble in his chin. His mouth moves, open and closing. His footing lurches. The tears prick his eyes. “After I l-lost my children,” he barely manages to get out.

Jo isn’t smiling, but her face is still open and kind. No pity. Only understanding. Asgore gives silent thanks for that.

“To what?” she asks.

“They were k-killed.” His breath leaves him. It almost feels like he’s drowning. _They were killed…._

She nods. “You had a wife, correct?” He nods. “Was she there with you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you both react?”

Asgore bows his head in shame. “She, with grief, yet tolerance. I…with anger.” Asgore could never say what he’d done in retaliation. He’s accepted that it’s his burden to bear for the rest of his life. There’s no forgiveness for what he’s done. He’s not sure he actually wants it. He certainly feels he doesn’t deserve it. But, if he can come to terms with what happened, then maybe he can find some version of peace. A place of quiet.

“She could not stand what I’d done, so she left,” he says, his deep voice thick and muted. His broad hand rubs his chin and cheek and he huffs, an attempt at stilling himself. He tries not to think about it, but he knows there’s not a day that goes by without him missing her. That he’s not infinitely sorry. But if the events surrounding the time of their reunion were any indication, he doubts she’d ever stop in hating him long enough to listen. He’s relinquished himself and his hope to that fact.

A question rouses him. “Did you ever grieve?”

His head raises, answering hers with a question in his own dark eyes.

“Did you ever stop and truly grieve for the loss of your children?”

His eyes dart around as he wracks his mind, sifting through the years. “All I felt for many years was anger.”

“Anger is normal. But their loss is real, Asgore.” He can’t fight the tears now. They drip down into his fur, weaving dark tracks. “Accepting that is the first step. Your next is to let yourself grieve. And then, you can work on adjusting and _living_ life without them.”

He hears her. He stores the information away. But once again, he’s unable to act. So he goes through the rest of the session, feeling marginally better for saying it aloud. But he thought it might’ve turned out differently. Been more cathartic, a great reveal to the peace he’s so longed for. But he still feels tired.

He wonders if he’s even capable of grieving after so long.

He steps out into the sunlight, looking down, lost in his thoughts when he nearly runs into someone else. He reels, stammering out an apology, “I am so sorry, excuse me—” He catches their face.

“T-Tori—Toriel?” he gapes, correcting himself in his surprise.

He’s taken aback and for two reasons. One, she was the last one he was expecting to run into.

And two, her face lacks that same look of hate she holds every time he looks back at her.

He’s also taken aback because she looks concerned. And curious.

“Asgore,” she responds. She tilts her head. She’s tall, but still needs to look up at him. Her jaw works for a moment before asking, “Are you well?”

If his fur could have gone any whiter, it would have. “Y-yes, thank you,” he replies, keeping his voice from shaking.

_Why am I so afraid? It’s not like I could get any lower in her eyes…._

He shakes his head clear. That kind of thinking helps no one.

“I apologize, but I must go,” he says, avoiding any further embarrassment. “Forgive my clumsiness.” He pauses. “I hope you and Frisk are well.” He turns and strides away before she can answer, back to home.

He doesn’t hear her say, “We are.”

~~~

Asgore prepares for the fall. These days, his fellow monsters are becoming more and more comfortable being on the surface; adjusting well, settling in, raising families of their own. He still remembers what that’s like. He’s happy for them. Actually happy. So he keeps going through his routine. Enjoying the chill creeping over the world, reaching its tendrils into the ground and trees, his house and his fur.

He’s kneeling on the crinkling, dry grass, clipping dead trimmings off of his plants. His hands slow. Small droplets fall and he almost doesn’t notice them. Only until larger ones start does he notice. Realizes when his face crumples into his paws; heavy, choking sobs wracking his body.

“They’re gone….”

_They’re gone and they’re not coming back. Nothing I do can get him back._

_Was that all it ever was? All those_ children _? Did I actually think I could somehow get my own back through the souls of others? Wasn’t it just revenge?_

So many questions pass through his mind at once, and he doesn’t know how to answer any of them. But he does know this is what Jo was talking about. This is grief. Wishing he’d done anything differently, wishing it wasn’t true, but it is and there’s nothing to be done now. He can only ride this storm and then…move on. And another question rises in the commotion.

_Can he?_

~~~

He receives an answer of 'Slowly, but surely.'

_Very. Slowly._

Because every day after that fall afternoon is…something. It’s work; hard and bitter and hardly _ever_ fair and honest. But he’s working. No day is the same. As he goes to his meetings, his sessions, gardens, and sees his friends, the work just…becomes part of the background. He becomes used to it. And that allows him to get better. He was so afraid. How could he ever forget what happened, forget his children? But he begins to realize moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. He wrestles with his feelings and thoughts, finds a place for them to rest. Some days he wakes up feeling as if he deserves to live in this new world that has claimed something from him as much as he’s claimed something from it. Other days, he wonders if he deserves anything at all.

It’s a slow process, but those moments become fewer and farther in between.

He’s watering his plants when the doorbell rings. He puts down the can on the windowsill, his brow furrowing. He strides over to the door, wondering who it could possibly be. He opens it wide, the wood swinging steady on creaking hinges. His eyes widen.

Toriel is standing on his front step, framed by the light and, he thinks, as beautiful as ever. Between them stands a happy Frisk, a smile stretching their face wide. He would laugh if he wasn’t so shocked. They’re every bit a barrier as the one they broke in the Underground.

“Hello, Asgore,” Toriel says with all the grace and timing of a queen. Some things never go away. Frisk waves vigorously with one hand. The other is holding a plate wrapped in foil.

He regains his composure. “Good afternoon, Toriel. And hello, Frisk.” His smile is calm and sincere. It really is good to see them. In his opinion, it’s been too long.

_But necessary_.

A long pause ensues. Toriel coughs slightly before asking, “May we come in?”

“Oh!” he exclaims. He stands back, sweeping his arm inside. “Yes, please. Make yourselves at home.”

“We brought you pie!” Frisk chirps. Both Toriel and Asgore smile down at them.

“Thank you very much, little one,” he says, deep baritone kind. His eyes flick briefly to Toriel’s.

“Could you please take that to the kitchen, Frisk?” Toriel asks. They nod and run off to find their destination. She turns to Asgore now. “I apologize for coming over so suddenly.”

“It’s alright. I was just,” he gestures to the flowers, “watering.”

She tilts her head to the side, intrigued, large eyes fixated on the flowers. “May I?” she asks.

“Of course,” he replies. He watches as she bends and inhales, inspecting each petal, admiring the size, shape, color, and smell of each one. He wants to ask why she’s here. He wants even more to say all of the things on his mind. But part of him also wonders if that time, the time to sit down and talk, has truly gone. He feels like he’s tried. Maybe he just didn’t try the right way. He doesn’t know. Though he does know he doesn’t see that hate in her face anymore.

That almost stresses him out more.

“They are beautiful.”

He meets her gaze. “Yes, they are. So many varieties up here,” he says, almost offhand. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Asgore, I-” she starts. But in a swift spurt of courage that shocks him almost as much as her, he raises his large paw to stop her.

“Toriel.” His arm drops and he has no idea what to do with his hands now. So he balls them in his pockets and steels himself.

“I have something to say and after, it will be the last of it. I know you do not want to hear any more, but…I-I need to say it. Please.” She waits and listens, straightening and clasping her hands in front of her. As good a go ahead as anything. “I do not expect you to forgive me, not anymore. I do not deserve it. I must live with what I’ve done. But know that I am sorry I caused so much pain. To everyone, to you most of all.” He draws a shuddering breath. “Asriel is gone. Chara too. I was wrong to think I could ever do anything to reconcile what happened. I…I-I’m sorry.” He swallows the lump in his throat, clearing it. Blinking rapidly. “That’s it,” he ends lamely. Not exactly a grand send-off, but it’s out there and that’s what matters. He expects anger, some kind of fire maybe.

“Thank you.”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. He looks up, staring at her. Whereas his tears are on the verge of falling, hers seem to have already taken the leap. He always hated to see her cry. And right now, he wants nothing more than to comfort her. But he’s lost that privilege. It’s no longer his. He sees the sorrow he’s felt reflected in her red-violet eyes, glistening. With it is an acceptance he’s just now starting to become familiar with. The tension that he’s held tight in his gut, that’s been roiling since she arrived, releases and something intangible exchanges. Nowhere near joyful satisfaction. But, rather, it’s an easing. A relaxing of the tossing waves.

And that’s enough.

“Mom?”

Both adults jump at the sound of the tiny voice. Frisk holds onto the doorway, brow creasing as they watch and try to understand. Toriel holds out her hand to them.

“It is alright, Frisk. We were just talking,” she reassures. They walk over and take the soft paw.

“Can we have pie now?” they ask. Toriel and Asgore both smile. She meets Asgore’s dark eyes now.

“Yes. Let us have pie,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the process of editing a new chap of litbm, it's just been slow going. Keep an eye out! Thanks for the patience and all <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	53. Ghosts

Morna leaps out of the truck as soon as you open the car door. She twirls around eagerly, sniffing the brisk, cold wind with her long snout raised high into the air. Her tail is lifted nearly as tall, wagging to and fro. She looks back at you while you get your jacket and scarf situated, as if asking you to hurry up please. You beckon her over with a whistle, fixing a leash to her navy and green chevron collar. It feels stiff and new and it leads you to wonder just how often Sully uses it, if at all. If he doesn’t, it sure says a lot about both Morna and her owner. How much he trusts her and how well she obeys. It must have taken a lot of training that’s for sure. You don’t think every dog is smart enough for that. But then again, Morna isn’t just any dog.

“Let’s go, girl,” you say, meeting her own bearded smile. You start walking into the park, Morna heeling right by your side.

The park isn’t too busy, but neither is it quite empty. Not like the night before. Humans and monsters with their own pets or each other, striding, jogging, or walking along the dying, brown grass and the worn, cobblestone paths. Most of the trees have lost their leaves, except for the pines. Losing more with every swift pass of the breeze. You still feel the chill even through your multiple layers. It causes a shudder to trickle up and down your spine. The sweet songs of mockingbirds, the chirps of cardinals, caws of ravens and crows, as well as the sharp, territorial cries of blue jays ring out through the decidedly wintry day. Accompanying you and Morna while she goes about her business, sniffing everything in sight. She lingers on a stick and then wraps her large jaws around it, bringing it to you.

“Wanna play fetch?” you ask. She barks and starts to jump around, bowing low, her dark eyes never leaving the object of her desire. You take her leash off and reel back, chucking it as far as you can, but still within sight. “Go get it!”

She tears off the second it leaves your hand. You laugh, all of your thoughts and worries gone as you play with Morna. You think she won’t just help you physically. Your mental state is already a hundred times better for having her with you. All you know is there’s something to be said for pets and for a dog as intuitive as she is. You’re a fair amount of throws into your game with her before you hear a voice behind you.

“Yo!”

That’s a voice you know. And one you’d preferably never hear again if you had any active choice in anything in your life.

“Fancy seein’ you here!”  You turn with a strained grin slapped on your face.

It’s the man from before.

The man who caught you and Sans that night. The man who _most definitely_ heard you make some undoubtedly lewd sounds _very loudly_. You’re screaming on the inside, but he’s as jovial as ever. An almost dopey-looking grin breaks across his face at the same time it softens it. You wish you weren’t so embarrassed, because in all actuality, he seems to have a very personable and inviting demeanor. His long, wildly wavy hair is tied back with some strands flying about his face. He’s taller than you by a wide margin and from what you can tell beneath his oversized sweater, he’s lanky as all hell. His dog, this beautiful, yet shaggy black and white painted border collie, weaves about both of your legs.

“Hi,” you say.

He laughs, this high, unapologetic giggle-bark combination that sends you into your own round of laughter. He sticks out his hand.

“Can’t just call you Skeledude’s Lover, can I? Name’s Jay,” he offers then pats his collie’s head. “And this is Oz.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, holding a hand to your face. You grasp his, peeking through your fingers. “___.”

He chuckles again, shaking vigorously. It’s at this point that Morna bounds up and forces herself between the two of you, her hackles raised high and on alert. Her large body takes up the space and pushes you backward. She sniffs Jay, not relaxing until she’s made an assessment. Jay takes it in stride, looking like he’s used to it, all things considered. You almost feel like apologizing, but she’s just doing her job. What you all wanted her to do. She seems to approve and you pat her wiry back, flattening her fur. Then both dogs meet and they go nuts, jumping around each other, racing off to play, the stick and humans long forgotten.

“Glad we finally met, huh?” Jay says, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

You chuckle. “Yeah. Finally put a name to the face.” You groan through your laughter, rubbing your hands on your face. There’s no use in pretending it didn’t happen. You cringe internally. Might as well get it over with. “Should I even say sorry?” you ask through your fingers.

“Nah. Nothin’ to be sorry about on, like, your end. Plus, ‘s not like you’d mean it anyway,” he teases with a wink. “I know I wouldn’t,” he says with another bark of laughter. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stands beside you while you both watch the dogs. “Hey, but I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. It just really fuckin’ _rocks_ knowin’ people are enjoyin’ themselves,” he says, emphasizing his words with a rock-on sign of his fingers. He adds with a grand gesture, “And with monsters! That’s awesome.” He’s so happy that it’s infectious. And you’re not sure you’ve met another human who is as excited about your relationship as you are.

“It is pretty rad, isn’t it?”

“Totally,” he agrees with a huge grin. You return it.

A brisk wind blows by, pushing your hair all about your face. You’re not sure why, but despite the enthusiasm you’re feeling from Jay, you still feel a bit introspective about a lot of things. It’s out of your mouth before you can even think about it. “It’s nice to hear some positive feedback once in a while.”

“Lotta haters, huh?” he asks. But it seems he’s already put two and two together.

You glance over at him, a soft, resigned smile on your face. “Kinda.”

He shrugs. “I’m all for peace and love, but fuck ‘em.” You just laugh and listen. “If they don’t give you any kind of happiness, why worry? And why keep ‘em in your life? They’re not doin’ ya any favors by stickin’ around and gettin’ all up in your grill.” He looks off, tapping his chin while he relays his thoughts. “Come to think, it’s not doin’ either of you any good. You’re not happy ‘cause of them and they’re not happy ‘cause of you.” He punches your shoulder. “Be who you wanna be. That’s what matters.”

He pauses and then snorts. “Except for like serial killers or some shit. Don’t kill people.”

You burst into laughter, wiping your eyes. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll try not to kill anyone.”

“Good choice,” he says with a giggle.

You and Jay stand and chat for a while longer while Morna and his dog play. After some time, he whistles and Oz bounds back to him, jumping up on his legs. Morna lumbers over and sits by your side, panting with her tongue lolling out. You scratch the top of her fuzzy head.

“Well it was really cool to finally meet you, ___,” Jay says.

“Same, Jay. And you too, Oz,” you say, smiling and scratching the collie’s ears.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “Want my number in case you wanna give our dogs some exercise again?”

You barely even hesitate, the good feeling you got from him earlier sticking around. “Sure.” You both exchange numbers and he walks away with Oz, strolling along like it’s his job.

You hope you do meet again.

\-----

You’re laying down on the cold ground, the withered, broken grass bending underneath your body. You have enough layers, as well as a large wolfhound nestled by your side, so you’re not that frozen. You kind of love it though. Love the weak heat the sun gives off, kissing your cheeks and lips and skin with warmth. A dichotomy you positively live for, that your heart and soul sing symphonies for. Morna shifts next to you and lets out a low woof. You open your eyes.

To Sans.

He’s standing over you, blotting out the sun as much as he is shadowed by it. You can’t see his face, but you don’t need to. So relaxed that you’re able to feel his contentment. The grin you know that’s there is sure, and only ever encourages your own.

“Sans,” you coax with a groaning stretch that ends in a lazy giggle when Morna rolls onto her back as well.

“hey, babe,” he answers with his own chuckle. He plops down above your head. You take advantage of his position, scooting backward to rest your head on his folded legs. Normally, it’d probably be uncomfortable, but he’s wearing jeans today. And his oversized hoodie is enough to add some extra cushion too. He chuckles again while you wriggle to settle yourself in. You catch him scratching Morna under her chin and neck in greeting. She sneezes and wags her tail in return. You close your eyes and sigh when you feel his hand trailing through your own hair next. A small smile lifts your mouth.

“how was it today?”

“Peachy,” you reply. Then snort as you think back. “Met the guy who caught us the other night. His name’s Jay.”

He barks out an incredulous laugh. “no way.”

“Way, baby. He was actually really cool about it,” you say, laughing with Sans’ growing chuckles. “And really nice. Probably hang out again when I take care of Morna next.”

“i feel like i should meet this guy,” Sans says, his chuckling still going strong.

“You should. He’s chill. And he’s good at pep-talks.”

“you get one?” he asks. You nod.

His voice softens. “did you need one?” His fingers trace your jawline.

“I mean…not really? But it was nice to hear anyway.”

“what’d he say?”

“That I shouldn’t worry about what people have to say. And I should focus on what makes me happy and fuck everything else.”

Sans hums above you. “good advice.” Then he pauses. “do you worry about what people say?”

“It’s more the amount of negativity that annoys me. So it’s nice to hear another human who’s as excited about it as I am.” You smile and stroke the fingers that lay on your face briefly.

Sans studies your face. Searching, but he’s not sure for what exactly. He worries, but for you, not for himself, really. He couldn’t care less what people think of him, and more importantly, of him and you. But he does care what it means to you. It’s not easy, feeling, and quite possibly, _being_ alone in the rest of your race. Being one of the few who’ve broken the norms and created this new kind of life. By all rights, it shouldn’t really be different at all. But that’s not reality. It can wear on a person, the feeling of seclusion. He knows that feeling intimately. So…he finds that he’s happy you’ve met Jay. He knows you hold no qualms over cutting things you don’t care for from your life, but he also thinks you’re probably liable to hold on even more tightly to things that reinforce your own happiness. You can’t spend all your time with him, nor can he spend all his time with you. And if this guy can be that supportive, _human_ friend for you, then all the better. Either way, he’s keeping one socket open.

A lull of silence falls, almost rocking you to sleep. But then you feel some scratchy strands fall on your face. You start and open an eye to meet Sans’ impish gaze. He’s dropping blades of grass onto your face. You chuckle and blow off one that landed on your lips. “so ya said this mornin’ you’d seen things ya can’t explain.”

“Yep.”

“like what?” he asks.

Your eyebrows raise in mild surprise. You shift, sliding to make yourself more comfortable. “Uh, like…ghosts, for instance.”

Sans grins. “seen napstablook?”

“Who?” You face is as confused as your voice.

Now Sans’ brow raises. “blookie? the ghost?”

“I don’t know any personally? There’s a _ghost_ named Napstablook?” you ask, astounded.

Sans chuckles and you don’t know if it sounds nervous or stunned. “uh, yeah. what’ve _you_ seen?”

You hold up your hands and say, “Ok, but you’re gonna have to introduce me to Napstablook later, like _what even_ ,” you trail off with a laugh. “So, there was this one restaurant I went to that was advertised as haunted, right? They said the chandeliers shake and glasses fly off the shelves, that kind of shit. I’d just heard things, hadn’t read anything else on it, but when I went into their bathroom, I looked under the stalls to see if they were occupied, since the doors were closed. They weren’t, so I went into one, right?” You hold up your hands. “But then, I heard the door to the stall next to me shut and lock. Shuffling footsteps, all that. Didn’t think anything of it, it’s a bathroom. Except when I looked over by the floor, there weren’t any feet. Bent down more and there wasn’t anyone there.” The hair on your arms stand on end when you remember and you run your hands through your hair, a sort of crazed look widening your eyes and lighting up your face. “But there was _someone_ in there I swear to god, Sans. Needless to say, I fuckin’ booked it out of there. Didn’t wait for anything. Turns out the girl who was killed at the restaurant was strangled in the bathroom. _Fuck_ that.”

Sans’ brow remains raised as his grin widens. “maybe ya had one too many spirits at the bar?” he teases.

“Ha. Ha,” you laugh, sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest. But you point one finger at him. “I’m not _that_ crazy. And that’s only _one_ place.”

“i like your ghost stories. keep goin’,” Sans says. He means it. He’s enthralled. It helps that you’re a pretty good story teller.

Your arms unfurl to pet Morna’s ears, tugging them gently and playing with them while you speak. She doesn’t give a single hoot, nearly passed out next to you. “Well there was another place. An inn. Old, the kind that had seen some things, been through a lot of people’s hands. Fixed up, torn down, raised again. But the character of it always stayed the same. I was just looking for a place to stay the weekend though. But as soon as I walked inside, I felt sick.”

“sick?” Sans asks.

“Yeah. Clammy, nauseous, claustrophobic. Just _bad_. I left and immediately felt better once I stepped outside. Found out later it was haunted. I mean, correlation doesn’t imply causation, but it was fuckin’ weird. And I grew up superstitious, so…,” you end with a shrug. “Plus, monsters, magic, and _souls_ exist. Who knows what else is out there that we don’t know about. It’s a big universe, man.”

Sans looks up into the vast, blue sky. His thoughts wander to a much different topic. “do you think anything’s out there?”

“Yeah.”

“really? you sound so positive,” Sans says with a hint of a laugh in his deep voice.

“Well yeah! Don’t you? The odds that something is versus the odds there aren’t seem much higher. It’s too big for there not to be.”

“i think so too.”

You wiggle more and lay your hands over your chest. Your eyes close, feeling more grass being dropped on your face. “I hope they’re not more humans.”

He chuckles. “why?”

“Humans suck.”

Sans’ giggling turns into full blown laughter when he teases, “i know at least one does. a lot.”

You laugh and grab the pile of grass, throwing it in the general direction of Sans’ face. He just laughs with you and continues with his job. “You’re so funny!” you yell.

“thanks, i know.” The laughter calms down and he’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “so was it surprising when we got up to the surface?”

“Yeah,” you say, thinking back. “All kids are ever told about monsters is that they’re in our closets or under our beds.”

Sans snorts. “funny, we think humans are under our beds too.” You burst into laughter at that.

“I remember exactly where I was when it happened.” Sans pauses in his grass pulling to stroke your jaw again. Waiting. “I was still on break before I started classes. But I’d just made cookies that day. Chocolate chip.” Your voice kind of takes on this faraway quality. “I was carrying them and a glass of milk into my living room when I saw. I dropped my milk,” you say, laughing and snapping out of whatever memories dragged you back. Sans chuckles with you. “I was…amazed. Looking back, I might’ve even seen you on tv, but after those initial moments, everything else was a blur.”

“but nothin’ about magic or anything?”

“Nope. Nothing serious anyways.”

“i wonder why,” he muses. Something sparks inside him, a quick flash of annoyance, perhaps. But he quells it swiftly. He wasn’t even around for that, it shouldn’t bother him. But…it does to an extent.

“Dunno. Maybe to cover up what they’d done,” you suggest.

“seems plausible.”

You tilt your head back to look at him. “Can humans still do magic? Do you know?”

“doubt it. magic is a hard thing to keep under wraps. if they could, we’d’ve heard about it by now.”

You purse your lips. There was a thought you’d always kept in the back of your mind ever since monsters arrived topside. You know humans sealed them away, and there was a war, but, strangely, there’d been no information following it. Copious amounts have been documented on monsters since, but about anything pre-barrier or pre-break…. It was like it had all been wiped away. Probably for the exact same reason you mentioned earlier. That monsters weren’t the ones who should’ve been punished. Your curiosity pushes you to ask your question.

“Do you know anything about the war?”

Sans looks back down, meeting your searching eyes. “not much, to be honest. that’d be a question for asgore.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to talk about it?”

A ghost of an emotion passes across Sans’ face, but it flees too quickly for you to read what it says. “dunno.” His right hand cups your cheek. “couldn’t hurt to try though.” You hum, mind already at work on how you’d even broach the subject with the large king.

No. It couldn’t hurt at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sidles in*
> 
> Yeah, sorry this took forever. It was needed though I think. I had a hard time with this chapter; having a crisis of faith as far as plotting out the rest of the story, or even in what direction it should go kind of kicked me in the ass. This story was always meant to be simple, about relationships, and I wanted to get back to that. You can probably see the meandering of the convos in it as a result. Which is what I want. Just people talking, ya know? 
> 
> And obviously this past fucking week didn't help ANYTHING.
> 
> But I feel better as far as writing goes and we'll get back to it. Thanks for stickin' around, my bbs.
> 
> Plus we finally met Random Cool Dog Guy.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	54. Waiting and Wanting

“So are you willing to do this or do I need to find someone else?”

“Are you willin’ to pay? Ain’t gonna do this shit for nothin’.”

“Hell, I would. Gonna get payback after what they did.”

“I bet. Ya really got your ass handed to ya.”

“Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Yes, you will receive compensation. Half upfront, the rest when you complete the job.”

“Fine.”

“Intimidation only. I want them scared, not in a hospital.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Now where’s the dough?”

“Here. Remember what I said!”

“Heh, yeah. We’ll scare ‘em alright. Let’s get outta here.”

\---------

“How can I protect you, boy, unless you always stay in here? Away in here.”

You press your lips together to whistle along with that slinking, sadistic scumbag. Morna’s head snaps up, tilting back and forth as she tries to understand the shrill noise and its source. You chuckle and scratch her ears. She woofs low and goes back to laying on top of your legs. You shimmy further into your cushions and raise your arms to pillow your head. Frollo continues to sing and spout his toxic words on the screen.

“Out there they’ll revile you as a monster. Out there they will hate and scorn and jeer.”

You sing with it, lowering your voice into a deep, decidedly more outrageously dramatic tone than the seriousness happening onscreen.

The biting evening has given way to frigid night, but it’s all stopped at your door. Inside, the candles and lamps light up the atmosphere in a cozy haze, delicate golds and soft oranges wrapping around the room. Not to mention the cocoa you’ve made and the blankets and company you keep provide excellent sources of warmth. If only Frollo wasn’t such a chilling villain, you think wryly. But the music more than makes up for it.

“Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone. Gazing at the people down below me.”

You sigh, a smile lifting your lips. “So _good_ ,” you mutter.

A knock rouses both you and Morna. She barks and scrambles off of you and the couch and you groan from her strong kicks. You roll off in similar fashion and straighten your clothes while you shuffle to the door. You squint and spy a tired-looking Sully through the peephole. Morna weaves about your legs impatiently, seeming to sense the door is all that separates her from her master.

“Hey, Sully,” you say as you open the door and unleash seventy-plus pounds of wolfhound on him.

He barks out a laugh and properly welcomes Morna back into his arms. Your smile only grows at the sight. They really do love each other.

“Hey, ___,” Sully replies finally.

“Tough day?” You raise a brow and throw him a sympathetic grin. He chuckles and rubs his face, clearly exhausted.

“You’re tellin’ me.”

You jerk a thumb over your shoulder. “Hey, you wanna come in for some cocoa? I got extra.”

“Actually, that sounds lovely, thanks,” he sighs.

You laugh as he strides in, barely upright. You always seem to be taken aback by how large he is, making your apartment feel small as soon as he crosses the threshold. “To be honest, you look like you could get off your feet. Make yourself at home, I’ll get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Thanks a bunch, ___,” Sully says, plopping down on your couch. It creaks from the added weight, but settles soon enough.

You call, "Is this a nightcap kinda night, or nah?"

"I wouldn't say no." You just smile and add in a little extra kick for him.

"Fools givin' you a hard time?" you ask as you hand him his drink.

"If only. Fools leave traces. These...not as much as I would like."

"Not at all would be ideal." You and Sully both salute to that. You sit shoulder to shoulder with your steaming mugs of hot chocolate, peaceful and relaxed. As if he wasn't some trained, mysterious military professional, and you some more-curious-than-is-good-for-you academic. Instead, you sit together as friends. To an observer, maybe even as friends who've known each other a long time, with a drowsy wolfhound rounding out the scene. It certainly feels like that at times. Sully seems an easy enough guy to get along with, assuming he lets you in enough to do so. Either way, you watch the movie in comfortable silence.

Sully eventually breaks it. “Always liked this one. In a peculiar way, I s’pose.”

“How come?”

“’S not really like other ones. More real, almost.”

“Definitely darker,” you agree. He hums an assent.

“But…more hopeful I think.” You wait for him to explain, sipping the rich liquid, feeling the heat trickle down the center of you and spread out in a delicious wave. He scratches his beard. “Do ya think he gets the short stick?”

“Quasimodo?” you ask. He nods.

Your purse your lips in thought. “Not really. Just ‘cause he doesn’t ‘get the girl’ or whatever, doesn’t mean he lost. I think he got something better than that.”

Sully points at you and gives an encouraging grumble while he swallows his cocoa. “Exactly. One person isn’t gonna make you whole. It’s…everyone. Friends, family.” He pauses and it seems to take up the room. “You don’t need a ‘romantic relationship’ to matter. Dunno. That’s right powerful to me.”

Your mouth opens, like you want to say something. And you do. But you feel wary about treading in things he’s avoided so deftly thus far. He looks at you, noticing your hesitation. “What?”

Your brow stitches together, but your voice is gentle. You decide to take a leap once more. “What happened in Ireland, Sully?”

He chuckles. It’s a tiny laugh. Weak and wanting. But it says a lot. “A buncha nonsense I’d rather not trouble ya with.”

You roll your mug in between your hands. “I quite like trouble. Have you _seen_ who I’m dating?” you tease with a wink. He laughs again.

“Speaking of, how is the charmer?” he deflects. You let it slide, considering fair is fair. It’s his history, you’ve got no business poking around in it. Part of you wonders if maybe you should just stop asking.

“He’s good. Maybe a little distracted.” You shrug. “The meeting’s coming up soon, right?”

He nods. “Yep. Last one before the holidays. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “This one’ll be at night though. Scheduling conflicts.”

You didn’t really know they did those kinds of meetings at night. You guess diplomacy doesn’t have an exact nine-to-five. “Alrighty. Need me to watch Morna again?”

He gives you an apologetic smile. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“I love trouble,” you remind him.

“I appreciate it, ___.”

You and Sully watch the rest of the movie and finish off the cocoa and it’s not long before you’re once again alone in your apartment. You stand in your living room, hands roosting in your hoodie pockets as you look around. The lack of warm bodies and pleasant noise has brought the silence of your apartment to the fore. If you’re completely honest with yourself, you enjoyed hanging out with people today—humans really—who didn’t hate your guts for just loving somebody. Hopefully it won’t be a once-in-a-blue-moon type of thing. And you'll try to keep Jay's words in mind as well. You turn off the lights and head upstairs, taking off your hoodie to get ready for bed. The multitude of blankets and pillows gain a little air as you flop onto your bed with your arms outstretched. A buzzing from your pocket grabs your attention. You plug it in its charger before looking at the text.

_\- y’alright_

**_\- Yeah, tired. Sully just left_ **

You don’t see what he texted after, falling asleep with the phone on top of your chest.

\-------

Sans is sitting at the table the next morning, eating breakfast with Papyrus, when his phone rings. His hand digs in his pocket without even breaking his concentration on his coffee. He figures it might be you even though it’s relatively early. He’d still be sleeping too, but last night didn’t come easy for him. It's happening more frequently and he’s still having a hard time pinpointing the reason why. Maybe because the meeting is hurtling toward him at a breakneck pace; maybe because even after all of your coaxing and reassuring, what happened downtown still doesn’t sit well with him. It’s hard for him to separate his instincts from his anxieties, even after all these months.

“hello?”

The deep baritone that answers back sounds exactly nothing like your voice.

“Good morning, Sans,” Asgore says.

Sans catches himself just in time. “oh, hey, asgore. how’s it hangin’?” Papyrus looks up at him now, just as curious about the call. Sans shrugs at him.

“I am well, thank you. Would you like to accompany me to the university today to begin getting your degrees in order?”

Sans’ sockets widen considerably. This morning just keeps getting more interesting. He feels this faint fluttering in his chest that leaves him perplexed. As if he’s not sure whether to feel excited or skeptical. He didn’t want to say it to you, or even really admit it to himself, that he wasn’t entirely convinced he’d actually be getting his degrees back. Definitely not beginning to work in the field again. He wants to, of course. It’s a desire he feels more keenly than most other things. Probably because they’re _his_ and he _earned_ them; back when things weren’t a mess, weren’t a sham. When it _meant_ something. Yet he’s still mindful to hold himself back though. If all those years and wasted time in the Underground was any good at teaching lessons, is that Sans has learned to not hold onto too much hope. He’ll see where this leads first.

“sure, sounds good to me.”

“Good! Please meet me at the administrative offices in an hour.”

Sans says his goodbyes to Asgore and hangs up, guarded eyelights looking at the screen.

“Brother?” Papyrus asks.

His reverie is broken and he glances up at Papyrus’ concerned face. Sans flashes him a smile, easing any worries he may have. “gonna go to the university with asgore to see about my degrees.”

Papyrus gasps and claps his hands in excitement. Sans laughs. He doesn’t even have to feel excited, Papyrus has more than enough for the both of them. Then the tall skeleton suddenly points at his brother, a stern look spreading across his features. “You must dress nicely! You cannot go there looking like that!”

Sans looks down at his clothes. He has a pair of jeans on, which he doesn’t see that much of a problem with. But the culprit might be the shirt with just a hotdog printed on it.

“but i like this shirt. it’s _hot_ dog.”

Papyrus has no words.

“Change.”

Sans chuckles. “aww, paps. what if i got one with a sandwich instead. would you be less _jelly_ then?”

“I do not even know what those words mean!” Papyrus shouts as he gets up from the table, clearing breakfast. “You are saying things, but the combinations do not make sense.” He pauses and grins. “Once you are a scientist again, maybe you will learn better jokes. _Periodically_ , at least.”

Sans bursts into deep laughter, rocking back in his chair. He rises, chuckles still wracking his short, stocky body, and moves to hug his brother tightly about the middle. Papyrus can’t keep his laughter under wraps either, hugging back.

“I am glad you are working to get your degrees again.” Papyrus pulls back and places both hands on Sans’ shoulders, squeezing gently. “I am very proud of you. And so is ___.”

If Sans had just contemplated stopping himself from being excited earlier, he most definitely does not hesitate stopping right now. The feelings those words brought are _too_ much and he doesn’t want to let Papyrus see just how much he’s affected by his words. It might bring on a lot more emotions than either of them bargained for; break the dam that Sans has erected to protect not only himself, but Papyrus as well. But no matter how much he tries to hold back, gratitude softens him and steals into his weakened voice when he says, “thanks, paps. i mean it.”

Papyrus nods sharply, grinning. “Now go change!”

\---

The wind threatens to blow the hood of Sans’ jacket over his skull when he teleports into a shadowy part of the university green. He smoothes it back along with the wrinkles in his shirt. He compromised, putting a nicer button-up over the hotdog shirt and a jacket over that. _What is it you say? Good enough for highway work, anyways._

He makes his way across the sprawling field towards what he assumes is the administrative offices. He remembers you mentioning them in passing when you and Alphys gave them a tour of the campus. He’s glad you did because the architecture seems to be pretty similar across different buildings. It looks like his memory serves him well, because he spies the unmistakable form of Asgore towering over the small crowds of students passing by. They gape up at him as they walk, chattering to each other once out of earshot. Sans hopes they’re good things. If Asgore notices at all, he doesn’t show it, rather amiably standing and smiling at those who meet his gaze. One student breaks from her group though, pausing in front of the massive monster. Sans finds himself walking faster, just in case. But his worries go unfounded.

The girl extends her hand.

Asgore’s resulting grin is brilliant, his large paw engulfing her hand when they shake. Buoyed by their friend’s courage, the others come up to shake hands. One young man even gives Asgore a decidedly low five, once he demonstrated it to him. Sans can hear his rumbling laughter echo even at this distance. The reverberations are deep and round and full of graciousness and charm. It's a sound that could warm the coldest of hearts. He waves goodbye to the students just as Sans comes up.

“make some new friends?” Sans asks with a good-natured grin.

“Oh yes! I did not expect such kindness. And encouragement for us,” Asgore responds, his mood bright and happy from the unexpected turn of events. He places a heavy paw on Sans’ shoulder as they walk up the steps into the inside of the building. “It only reinforces the importance of what we have to accomplish here today, my friend. These young minds are eager and looking toward a brighter future than their elders ever have. Our presence must be familiar. That is how us being here will be most effective.”

“it’d kill two birds with one stone by me being here.”

“Indeed.” Asgore smiles softly down at Sans. “But you being recognized for your talents is the most important thing.” Sans chuckles at that, heartened by it.

They wind through the dizzying hallways of the building. The magnificence of the façade is toned down considerably in the interior. It shuffles off the romantic decadence in favor of a more modern approach to design. Clean lines accompanied by whiter surfaces. The metal skeleton exposed and raw in an attempt at refinement. They approach the desk of a woman. She hardly notices them at first, head bowed, absorbed in her paperwork. Her pen creates a small, scratchy din in the breadth of her cramped world.

“The Dean doesn’t have any openings for walk-ins today,” she says without looking up.

“That is fortunate, for we have a meeting,” Asgore answers calmly.

Her head snaps up now, eyes widening at the sight. Sans bites down the chuckle threatening its way up, though his smile betrays him. Bet she didn’t expect a nearly eight-foot goat monster and grinning skeleton to show up at her desk today.

“Oh! I apologize,” she quickly amends, her eyes scanning the screen of her computer. “You must be Mr. Asgore and Mr. Sans, yes?” Asgore nods.

Sans' smile grows, finally letting himself chuckle. “just sans. mr. sans is my father,” he quips. A smile breaks the anxiety in her face and Sans is happy to see her relax a bit. Probably was a bit of a shock to the system to see them walk up.

“I’ll let him know you’re here.”

The Dean, whoever he is, doesn’t leave them waiting very long, striding back out along with the secretary. Sans looks him up and down. He’s about average height and all thick planes, glasses perched atop of a sharp nose, with even sharper eyes resting above that. Grey streaks through his close cut hair in reckless trails. Every inch an academic, Sans assesses. However, it is the collectedness of his demeanor that screams of the administrative position he holds. Pity to whoever puts one toe out of line with this man. He extends a hand to each of them in turn, shaking firmly and, to Sans’ increasing surprise, hardly balking at the two monsters.

“Dr. Richard Brown. Nice to meet you, Mr. Asgore, Mr. Sans. Welcome, welcome, please, come in,” he chatters in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. No; Sans doubts he puts up with much nonsense at all. He definitely didn’t become a dean on a whim. Sans looks around the room.

Wide and clean, the office of the Dean seems to have all the accoutrements required of such a position. Books, young and old, line the walls in inset, darkly stained, wooden bookshelves that match the rest of the space. Though the office itself instigates an atmosphere of study and reflection, as well as responsibility, the suit of windows on the right wall offer up a beautiful distraction. Sans hopes he takes advantage of such a view. 

“I’m the Dean of the Sciences here at the university, if you couldn’t guess,” he introduces, allowing a rare smile. He gestures to the two chairs in front of his desk as he sits. Asgore has some trouble squeezing into his, but he manages in the end with an apologetic smile. Sans’ mouth quirks. Dr. Brown folds his hands and leans forward like he’s about to give a lesson. “Now, we are here to discuss, uh, your qualifications for your degrees,” he points to Sans with both index fingers, “is that correct?”

“you got it,” Sans answers.

“Doctorates, as I recall?”

He chuckles. “yeah, just don’t ask me to fix any broken bones.” All he gets is a wan half-smile. Sans’ grin tightens. Tough crowd.

“Usually, this would be the part where I look through my files that I was able to scrounge up on you to gauge your background. But,” he opens his hands to his immaculate desk, “as you can see, there are none. And I’m sure you can see the problem we have here.”

“Yes, we are aware we are new to the system—” Asgore starts.

“And that accreditation between universities matters in these instances,” Dr. Brown adds.

“Yes,” Asgore continues, still calm. “But we would like to know what Sans would have to do to have his education recognized like Dr. Alphys’ was.”

Recognition sweeps across the dean’s face. “Ah, yes,” Dr. Brown says. “With Dr. Alphys, her position as Royal Scientist prior to coming topside certainly did not hinder her advancement here.” He taps a small stack of files to his right. “This is what I would like for you.” His eyes seem to peer through Sans now, an arrow in its edge. “What positions did you hold before? Preferably within your selected field of study.”

Sans groans internally, glancing at Asgore. They share a loaded look. They both know well the approximate amount is none. There was only room for one scientist and one purpose down in the Underground and both of them know it. Instead, he says truthfully, and trying to make light, “there weren’t as many opportunities in the underground. everyone was mostly focused on getting out rather than what particles they can’t even see do.”

Again, Dr. Brown is not amused.

“So, no job?”

Sans grinds his teeth imperceptibly. “none revolving around my degrees, sir.”

Dr. Brown examines Sans for a moment before nodding. “I see. Do you have the degrees on hand? Any information from the university you attended?”

Once again, Sans is at an infuriating loss. He might have his degrees somewhere. He’s even less sure about anything to do with the university in the Underground. It really has been too long.

“Surely you have the information Dr. Alphys provided. They would be similar as far as the university is concerned, even if their fields of study differed,” Asgore offers.

“We have some,” Dr. Brown allows. “But, if I am correct in my guess, you acquired your schooling before Dr. Alphys, yes?” Sans nods. “Then the information would be a bit different, unfortunately. We examine case-by-case, here.” A somber, and surprisingly sincere, expression crosses his hawk-like face and Sans feels that shred of hope begin to dwindle inside him. “Unless you can obtain that information, I do not—” He trails off and all three heads swivel to the raised voices just outside of the door. It opens.

“It’s alright! Really, just a pop-in, see what the hubbub is about! You look very busy and I can show myself in and this is a lovely cuppa, you should filch yourself some and don’t at all stop me from seeing— Oh, hullo, Dick!” A man explodes inside, all smiles, with the distressed secretary hot on his heels.

“I’m sorry, sir, he just walked right on by!” she says hurriedly.

Sans looks back at Dr. Brown. He’s leaning back in his chair now, looking older by five years at least and entirely unsurprised at the intrusion. He waves a hand. “It’s alright, Ms. Belle, let him through.”

“I do apologize Ms. Belle, you are wondrous!” the cheerful individual shouts to her as she leaves.

Sans sizes up the new arrival. The man looks like he could be tall, but he’s bent slightly. It may be from his years or even stress, but Sans can see the effects of both on his stubble-coated face. His clothes are a bit on the shabbier side, stooped shoulders draped with a well-worn lab coat. However, his eyes are bright, totally at odds with his disheveled appearance. His voice has a similar, jaunty life to it. He holds a coffee mug that just barely contains the dark liquid inside from the way the man is weaving about. He comes up to Sans and Asgore, shaking hands vigorously with both of them.

“The name’s Dr. Carter, but you can just call me Carter, if you like. Everyone else seems to. But I kind of like it that way, don’t you reckon, Dick?” Carter titters over his shoulder.

“Yes, I _reckon_ , Carter. Excuse me, gentleman, this is the head of the department, with whom Dr. Alphys works.”

“Ah, yes, lovely, lovely, brilliant scientist, her.” Carter hops and takes a perch on Dr. Brown’s desk, who moves things aside with a glare at Carter’s back, lest they be knocked off. Carter leans forward, eyeing Sans intensely. “Say, are you a scientist as well? You’ve got that look about you.”

Sans’ smile is cautious. “i like to say yes.”

Carter takes a sip. “What field?”

“quantum mechanics mostly.”

“Any specialties?”

“local causality, quantum entanglement, and entropic dynamics. dabbled a bit in mechanical engineering with dr. alphys.”

Carter’s face splits into a wide, ecstatic grin. “Kindred spirits. Theoretical physicist myself, but I’ve got my fingers in a lot of pies nowadays.” He turns back to the dean, pointing a demanding finger in his direction. “Please tell me we are doing Pi Day next year.”

Dr. Brown gives him a glowering, sarcastic look. “I’ll make sure to pen it in,” he bites.

“Good man, good man,” Carter says. He turns his attention back to the two still very confused monsters. “Well, why are you here? Why aren’t you already here working? Why isn’t he already here working? And don’t give me that rubbish about budget, I’ve looked at the numbers.” He seems to aim the questions to the man behind him, and Sans gets a kick out of it.

Dr. Brown clears his throat, visibly ruffled, and says, “Because we have yet to have proof he even obtained those degrees.”

Carter raises his brows, winking conspiratorially to Sans, “You mean you understood what we were just talking about?” Dr. Brown sputters and Carter laughs, waving his hand. “Don’t bite your arm off, Dick. But surely you don’t think he’s lying? Tell me, _who_ in their right mind would lie about being familiar with quantum mechanics? Particularly in a situation where he bloody well knows he’ll be tested on it.”

Dr. Brown huffs, caught in his own web. “Because there are _protocols_ we must follow, Carter. Or everything goes to hell,” he tries to argue, throwing his hands up.

Carter chuckles. “Well to hell with your protocols, then.” He gestures his sloshing mug to Sans. “This one’s an up-and-coming, just you watch.” Sans meets the man’s dancing eyes, glad he has an ally on the inside here. Someone with sway. If he ever again felt like he could trust someone who had so much power over his future, it would be Dr. Carter. “What does he need for proof, then?” Carter asks.

Dr. Brown smooths his suit jacket, happy to be back on topic for now. “At least the degrees and transcripts from the university.”

“Can you get that?”

“We will do our best,” Asgore assures.

Carter gives him a thumbs up, turning back to give Dr. Brown a pointed look. “And we will do our best on our end to make sure your recognition goes smoothly, won’t we?”

Dr. Brown looks absolutely exhausted from trying to argue any further. “Yes, yes. We will see what we can do for you, Mr. Sans.”

“That’s Dr. Sans,” Carter corrects as he sips from his mug. Sans could kiss this man. Dr. Brown grumbles and stands, shaking hands with them both and anxiously pushing Carter out of his office. Carter laughs as the door shuts behind them. “He just doesn’t like that I get things done ‘round here.” He raises his mug along with a contrite grin to Ms. Belle then places a hand on Sans’ shoulder as he walks with them to the foyer. “Now, I was always a huge fan of getting head-starts, so why don’t you come by the lab next week. Think of it like…a preview of what you may be doing. Or whatever,” Carter says happily.

Sans almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. “uh, are you sure? is that even allowed?”

“Right-o, let’s ask permission first.” He turns to address empty air. “Dear Benevolent Science Dictator Dr. Carter, would you please allow this budding scientist to exercise his talents?” He straightens up to his full height and turns the opposite way, sticking his hand in between the buttons of his shirt, raising his nose high. “Mm, yes I believe that will be sufficient. Carry on, carry on, God save the Queen ‘n all.” Sans and Asgore both laugh at the display. Carter taps the side of his nose. “The pleasures of being head of the department. So yes, I’m sure, Dr. Sans.”

Sans shakes the man’s hand, squeezing firmly. “thank you,” he says, hoping his genuine gratitude shows.

“Yes, thank you for all of your help,” Asgore says too, shaking Carter’s hand afterwards.

Carter grins amiably. “No matter, whatsoever. It’s just jolly good to have another one of us running about.” He waves goodbye, shouting, “I’ll see you next week!”

Sans can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Happy Holidays everyone! Gonna try to bust these out in the next couple weeks while gbv is on the backburner. Wanna try to wrap this story up in some nice paper and bows. It's been a hell of a journey and I'm stoked you guys have stuck with me through it. <3
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	55. Back with a Bang*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEEOOO explicit fun stuff toward the last third of the chapter, so be forewarned!
> 
> <3

You lay in your bed thinking of how to approach Asgore. You’ve spent most of the day going back and forth on how to go about it, how the conversation might play out. That and watching movies. But you’re back to the grindstone once again. Should you just come out and ask? Go in for the kill? You think tact is probably the best route to take. It’s probably still a powerful and recent memory for him. Your brow furrows as you ponder that thought more. How old is Asgore anyway? How old do monsters like him get? Does time go by differently for him? Maybe that’s a subject you can broach as well. There's still so much you don't know. A ring interrupts your musings.

“Yello?” you answer.

“blue,” says a deep, chuckling voice. You smile.

“’Sup, baby?”

“oh, you know…,” he trails off nonchalantly and you laugh, having an idea of what he’s going on about.

You grin and sweep your arm out as if he could see. “Let’s see if I _do_ know. I give you the green light.”

Not a second later, you watch a short, stocky skeleton fall into existence at the foot of your bed. It’s so fast that if you’d blinked, you’d have missed it completely. You pull down your mouth in a convincing frown.

“Where’s the ice cream?”

One of his brows raise while his mouth falls the slightest bit. “uh…,”

You laugh loudly, dropping your act. “Just kidding, I knew you were coming.” He relaxes and chuckles.

“last time i checked, you had ice cream in your freezer.”

You smirk and tease with a gesture of your foot, “How would you know?” He smiles right back and kneels on your bed. He shrugs off his jacket and god, does he look sexy while he does it. An errant thought weaves its way through that he’s a bit more dressed up than usual, but it’s gone as soon as it came, instead straying to the striking way his hands move….

“i just know things,” he says and he falls forward, crawling toward you, that smile of his growing edges into something infinitely more intriguing. “plus i raid your fridge regularly.” You both laugh and you watch him stalk towards you still. The look he’s giving you lights you on fire, and you can’t help but bite your lip to relieve some of the ache in your chest, not to mention your thighs. But you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t to mess with him a little bit too. It seems to have worked because you catch his eyes darting down to your lips.

“Oh, you do, huh?” you say a little breathlessly.

He finally reaches you, his hand catching your ankles and spreading them to either side of him. Your chuckle turns into a soft gasp, but that delighted smile still rests on your face. His warming hands trace lazy trails along your calves, stroke the sensitive skin behind your knees and finally find a home on your thighs. They tighten suddenly and tug you toward him so the backs of your thighs rest on the tops of his. His smirk has only gotten wider and his hands continue to run up and down your muscles, fingers skimming underneath the edges of your shorts.

“yeah. but i gotta say, your taste in ice cream is a little vanilla,” he teases.

You laugh, your cheeks burning, but you try to act cool anyway, lacing your arms under your head. “Well, by all means, stock my freezer with your favorites. I’d be very appreciative.”

“might take ya up on that,” he chuckles. His fingers tickle the inside of your thighs and you giggle, slapping his hands away. He holds them up just for a moment of apology and laughter before laying them back on the outside of your thighs. “so how was your day?”

You shrug. “Pretty quiet. Did some reading and web-surfing. How ‘bout you? Anything _exciting_?” you ask with accompanying jazz hands.

“actually,” he chuckles, “kinda.”

Your eyes light up and a grin spreads across your face. “Oooh, sehr interessant, do tell!” He laughs and rocks back on his heels, still stroking your thighs.

“well, asgore called this morning to start working on getting my degrees back.” Your smile turns to one more of true surprise, raising yourself to your elbows. “went with him to see the dean of the sciences, dr. brown.” You nod, listening intently. You feel like you’re aware of the name, but only in the vaguest sense. He’s not really on your radar at the university.

“How’d the meeting go? Promising?”

“um,” he hums with an air that says _not really_. “it wasn’t until the head of the department barged in.” You have so many questions now, your brow furrowing at the same time your eyes widen. Sans takes pity on you, continuing. “dr. carter. he’s a character. but a good one, ya know? works with alph on the regular. theoretical physicist, so,” he gives a thumbs up at that. “we weren’t gettin’ anywhere with brown, but he took our side. gonna help in any way he can.” Sans smiles, and you can tell, just from that soft curve and warm lights, that he’s truly pleased. “told me to come by next week to ‘preview what i might be doing’ there.”

Your jaw drops.

“He can do that?” Sans shrugs, laughing. “So you have a _job_ already?” He laughs even louder.

“guess i might.”

“Wow,” you breathe. You lift yourself up and cradle his face between your hands, kissing him gently. You whisper, “I’m so proud of you.” Then his hands circle around to your back, drawing you to him in an honestly surprisingly passionate response. You feel…something. Something warm, a heat grazing just beyond your periphery, coaxing you in waves of gentleness then ferocity. Your chest tightens and you know that twinge anywhere. A hitch in the breath that spirals down fathoms into yourself. Every time this happens, your grip on that connection gets stronger, more tangible, more _possible._ His fingers press in response. He doesn’t let go for what feels like a long while, your lips swollen and more than a little dazed. He eases you back down.

He clears his throat, clearly just as affected by what transpired as you are. “well, don’t congratulate me just yet. dr. brown made it clear i need more proof to be recognized.”

You’re a little thankful for the diversion back to the previous conversation. You feel like if Sans had asked, you would have given him most anything in that moment. It held a power that you’re at once afraid of and trembling for. “Do you have the physical degrees?”

He scratches his skull, looking sheepish. “somewhere, i think.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “I’ll help ya find them, bonehead.”

“he also said i need transcripts and some other stuff from the university. proof that it existed or something, i dunno,” he trails off.

“Shouldn’t they have that from Alphys?”

“you would think. but he said it’s a case-by-case thing. it doesn’t help i haven’t had a field job, while alph has.”

“Oh…’cause she was the Royal Scientist?” Sans nods. You pat his hands. “We’ll figure it out and get what you need. So help me!” You shake your fist at your ceiling. Sans massages your thighs as he laughs again. He peers around the room, spying a piece of paper by your pillow.

“what’s that?” he asks with an inclination of his skull. You turn.

 “Oh! I thought about some questions I’d like to ask Asgore today.”

“oh yeah?” You hum an assent. “wanna run ‘em by me?”

“Oooh, yes, actually,” you say with an excited smile. You turn to grab the page, but not before gliding a finger along his jawbone. “Good idea,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him. You kind of live for the blue blush that spreads across his cheekbones. You lay back once more and bring the paper to your face while Sans continues to knead your thighs. You clear your throat and hold up your index finger. “Ok, so, first off maybe, ‘Asgore, would you mind if you told me about the war?’”

Sans barks out a laugh. “i’m sure he’ll answer ya once he recovers from shock.”

It’s hard to pout through your twitching lips. “What? I mean I won’t phrase it _exactly_ like that! More like… ‘I know this might be hard for you to talk about, but if you can and want to, would you mind telling me about the war?’”

He gives you a crooked smile. “better.” But then it falls the slightest bit. “i’d bet it’s still a deep scar, so just be easy on him.”

You nod, serious. “I’ll be tactful and understanding, no worries.” You’re reminded of something you thought about earlier. “How old is Asgore, Sans?”

His hands slow until they stop their ministrations altogether. He looks up, brow furrowing in confused concentration. “i’m…not exactly sure to be honest. pretty old i think.”

You tilt your head and ask hesitantly, “do…,” you pause, “do monsters die of old age?”

He looks back down at you and you share a somber look. His fingers start back up. “yeah. but ‘s not the same for boss monsters.”

“Boss monsters?” Your face scrunches in bewilderment.

Sans nods. “asgore and tori are both boss monsters. it’s different for them. they only age as their kid does.”

You frown, your mind working. “Their kid…,” you whisper. Your eyes widen, “But…but their child was killed. What happens then?” You lift yourself onto your elbows, a sad and horrifying thought slinking in. “Do they stop aging?”

Sans nods. “biologically, yeah.”

“So they’re immortal?”

“it’s never happened before, so it’s a yes until it isn’t.”

You slump back onto the bed, muttering, “Shit….” Just thinking about their loss makes your eyes itchy. Makes you wish you could do anything else. To take it back, to help them. But all it does is make you feel helpless. “Maybe I shouldn’t bring it up.”

Sans hums. “i think… that if you just be kind, be yourself—like i know you will—and ask, he’ll help you learn.” He adds, almost as an afterthought. “who knows, maybe you’ll help him too.”

“You think?” you ask, still very unsure about it all.

Sans grins brightly now and you know in your heart it’s not fake. He leans forward and bends over you, touching his mouth to yours.

“yeah,” he breathes, so deep it makes your lips buzz.

He presses softly at first, at least until you make a small, happy noise in your throat, and then he responds fervently, enveloping you in his smell, his weight, his desire. His kisses trail down your jaw and throat. When he drifts over your chest, you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is, let alone feel it. From the way his mouth widens, indicates he just might. Your questions are answered when he places a tender kiss right above that thumping organ. It responds in kind, fluttering rapidly. You laugh and smile at the ceiling, a wonderful ache binding your chest and breath. His arms dig underneath your waist to hug you tightly to his body. His bones rattle a gentle tattoo and your hands stroke his broad skull, eking out a groaning sigh from him. You could stay here like this all night you think. But it’s not to be.

Though you’re not complaining about what he does next.

His hands slide down and grasp onto your shorts and underwear. In one fell and shifting yet swift movement, he tugs off your lower garments. You gasp and laugh loudly at his ardor. He joins you with a booming laugh, ending it with a growl. He starts scooting back and you must have had a look of pure despair on your face because it only makes him laugh louder.

“don’t worry, not goin’ anywhere. just gonna say hi to an old friend,” he teases. Then he lays down and eases your well-massaged thighs over his shoulders.

You bark out a laugh, yelling, “Old?! I’ll show you o— _ooooh_.”

One lick. That’s all it took for you to lose all coherence and end up a wanting, gasping mess. That’s just the start though, because his tongue disappears. You whine, arching your back somewhat in desperation. It’s replaced by a languid finger. His touch burns you, and your hips jerk almost by their own volition, needing more stimulus _now_. He chuckles. Evilly in your opinion, if you could _have_ any opinions right now other than _please dear GOD use your tongue again, anything, please just give me more._

“patience,” he whispers hotly.

You just groan in response.

He takes pity on you though because you feel his thumb press right above your clit and a loud moan spills out from you. Sans starts making circles and you instinctively follow his movements. But it’s still not enough. You whimper for more, sweat beginning to bead on your flushed face.

“Please,” you beg. You decide to play the game too. You shift your leg to slide your foot against the wing of his pelvis. He grunts and twitches under you. It ends in a knowing chuckle and he responds by lifting your thigh higher to once again rest on top of his shoulder. You laugh, out of breath. He says nothing, but he gets a bittersweet sort of revenge when he begins licking you with fervor.

“ _Ahhh_!” you cry, your arms fisting in the pillows above your head as your hips buck against his face. You moan and gasp, overwhelmed by the sensations starting to build and come to a head in your lower belly. Sans keeps a firm hold of your thighs and hips, relentlessly attacking you. You manage to groan, “Not gonna last m-much longer if y-you—ah—keep this up— _shit_.”

You inhale sharply when he growls, muffled, “i know.”

You have no shame anymore, who gives a fuck when you’re getting eaten out like this, your hands lower to lay almost forcefully on his skull, hips jerking all the while. You grind and Sans licks and if you had greater will, you might have held on a little longer, but it feels like it’s been ages and you just cannot handle it anymore. You crest, a heat surging through your body, from your center, to your extremities, making your toes curl, legs flex, back arch, and you to moan long and loud, caring little for who may hear it. Let ‘em hear, they can be jealous all they want, they wish they were being torn apart like this.

Sans’ tongue slows, but stretches out your climax as long as he can until you slump, quivering and shaking from sensitivity and effort and that delightful high. You feel like you weigh a thousand pounds, your legs just dead weights on Sans’ shoulders. He lets you down gently, still resting your legs on either side of his. He smirks down at you, pleased with his work. You’re pleased too. Very much so.

You wipe the sweat from your brow, matching his grin. “How was the reunion?”

“oh, great,” he chuckles. “said to come again any time.” He massages your thighs again.

You open your arms to him, saying, “Well, it’s bad manners to be late to a reunion.” He laughs loudly and bends once more over you, both taking and giving until you’re left exhausted in each other’s arms.

You roll off of him and lay side-by-side, the covers strewn in a delightful disarray about your bodies.

“that was needed,” Sans sighs in admittance. All you can do is hum in agreement, still trying to catch your breath. Your hand searches for his, grabbing tight hold when you do.

“Your meeting is soon isn’t it?” you blurt out.

He turns his skull to look at you and you do the same. “yeah.” His smile grows faint. “feel better once it’s done and over with.”

“Then you can relax for the holidays and science to your heart’s content.”

“exactly.” He squeezes your hand. “you gonna be taking care of morna that night?”

“Yep.”

“and you think…?”

“It’ll be fine, Sans. She’s smart, I’m smart, and together we’ll make a barely passable individual.” You and Sans laugh.

“what ya gonna be doin’ that night, ya think?” he asks, trying and failing miserably at acting nonchalant.

You just chuckle, deciding to humor him. “Maybe swim and then go home to take care of the surplus ice cream problem I’ll be having now. I know, terribly exciting, but such is my life.”

He huffs out a laugh. “someone’s gotta bear it.” He turns on his side and presses close, his face nestling into your hair and neck. “just remember to save me some.”

You giggle and hug him close. “I just might, _if_ you’re good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYOOOOOOO
> 
> (apologies for any typos, etc. i am editing this while s.e.v.e.r.a.l. glasses of wine in; you're great you know that) 
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	56. Calm

Your fingers slide over smooth silk and hard bones. Your eyes meet flickering lights and you smile at your shifting Sans. “Last one,” you say. “For now.”

“heh, for now.”

“You will do great, Sans!”

“Like always,” you whisper against his cheekbone before you pull back.

A more genuine smile breaks across Sans’ face as his gaze switches between you and the taller skeleton brother.

“thanks. whatdya say to celebration spaghetti tomorrow, paps?" Papyrus' eyes grow wide and he all but jumps for joy at the opportunity. A shimmering beyond the curtain draws everyone's attention. Sans peeks outside to see the Dreemur’s car pull up, the headlights flashing dusky halos in the evening haze. His eyes move back to you and you notice him give you a sly wink. “don’t wait up.”

You take it to mean _do wait up_ on your part. You just might humor him, the thought bringing a sneaking grin and soft blush to your face. He hugs you and Papyrus goodbye and then he’s gone. Building bridges one meeting at a time. Your heart swells and you weave your arms around one of Papyrus’. The stirring of your soul urges you to breathe deep and long. You’re not sure anything could make you happier than Sans getting what he’s always deserved. You have a loving partner, new family, and friends you would do anything for. And you have half a mind to think they’d do the same for you. Yes. Everything’s going right.

\-----

A hurried series of clicks thump down the hallway. Sans and Asgore turn to see who is coming up behind them, Toriel and Frisk having already gone in.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Sully says, waving and throwing an apologetic smile.

Asgore inclines his horned head, smiling gently. "Do not worry, it seems everyone is slow to arrive." He motions to the stragglers filing through the doorway.

Sully chuckles deeply and winks at Sans. “Just popped in on your brother and sweetheart, actually.”

Sans laughs. “bet they gave ya a lotta trouble.”

“Oh, loads.” They all walk into the room and Sully claps a hand to Sans’ shoulder. “But they’ve assured me they like trouble.”

“heh. good thing they’re with me then.”

Sully’s laughter echoes and seems to brighten the inside of the room all on its own. “Funny, they said almost the exact same thing!” Sans' own laughter bubbles up, finding itself hard-pressed to stay quiet. Of course you would say that. He honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Once this meeting is done and over with, he’ll be free to spend his time with you and Papyrus and begin working in the sciences again. Free to be with those he loves most in this life. He really can’t wait.

\-----

“C’mon punk! Your dog is swimming faster than you!”

You blow a stream of determined bubbles and focus on pumping your arms even faster. Your muscles burn and protest such misuse but god does it feel good. You push yourself and your limits, not willing to let Undyne or yourself down. There’s no way you’d be able to beat her. You knew that going in; you knew it from the moment you challenged her, really. This is her element and you’re only a visitor in her kingdom. But that sure as hell won’t stop you from trying your best. You reach the end of the pool, panting and wiping the water from your eyes and face. Undyne is sitting on the edge smirking, while Papyrus claps his hands above you.

“Very good job, friend!” Papyrus applauds.

“Did alright, punk! Not as good as me, but hey, not many can keep up!” Undyne shouts, all teeth and streaming water. Her braid slips over her shoulder like a thick snake, as if made of fire but yearning to take another drink.

You laugh. “Thanks guys. And thanks for letting us come here for a bit.” You look back to see Morna swimming in circles and snapping at the water, utterly at home.

“Of course!”

“Yeah! Good to get some training! Plus, we don’t know when the meeting will end either.” Papyrus nods in agreement.

“And it is always nice to be together!” Papyrus says with a happy crow.

“Well, I always enjoy hanging out with my friends,” you chuckle. Your heart speeds up as if you were swimming laps all over again. You wade over to the side and prop your arms up on the lip of the pool. Morna skids up and immediately takes advantage by attacking your face with her tongue. You sputter and laugh, pushing back into the deep end once more. Undyne springs back in with a whoop and the game is back on.

It’s well into the night when you pull up to your apartment after leaving the gym. Morna wags her tail excitedly, her wet fur dripping and flinging water every which way. As well as a heavy stench that needs ridding. No amount of chlorine can mask that wet dog smell.

“Ready for a bath, girl?” you say. She barks an assent.

She had a great time you think. She’ll definitely sleep like a rock tonight. Sully wasn’t sure when the meeting would be over, so it’s probably safe to assume you’ll have her for the night. You yawn as you step out of your truck, just wanting to go inside and relax. Morna bounds out of the truck and noses around your bushes while you shoulder your bag and insert your key. It opens easily. You don't really think about it. It’s not something you _have_ to think about. It’s an action no more special than any other. One performed endlessly, and to spend any time dwelling on it would throw a wrench into a well-oiled system. You step inside and flick the lights.

“C’mon, Morna—” But your voice dies in your throat, gone like yesterday.

There’s two men.

Two masked men.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy am i sorry
> 
> Timing and editing of things got weird this time 'round so you have a very short chapter. BUT the next /will/ be posted tomorrow. Not gonna leave you hanging. For long.
> 
> tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	57. The Storm

The men stand transfixed in the utter mess that is your apartment. You're surprised by how little you waste time. Your hand scrabbles for the bat by the door, hefting it in your shaking hands. Morna edges in, her hackles raised and snarling. They balk, but stand their ground. Morna pushes on your legs, but you don’t respond. You can’t—can’t hardly think. Your heart is hammering a desperate tattoo in your chest, feeling as if you could be split wide open. You feel your grip slip in fear, but you push it away viciously, anger sitting just as heavy on your soul. You’re at a standstill, just staring at each other. They’re holding bags, with what you can only assume are your belongings.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” you repeat.

One of the men fidgets while the other pulls out a gun. You pale, stepping backward, the fear shifting headlong into terror. Morna huffs a chilling growl, rasping and throaty, ears flat against her head. It’s intimidating, just being so near to her when she’s like this. She sticks right by your side and you feel her rumbling against your thigh.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You swallow and say, against your better judgement, your voice hoarse, “I’ve already called the cops. They should be here soon. Take what you want…just go.”

Yeah, you’re lying through your teeth, but they don’t know that. They look at each other, alarm clear in their movements. They hoist their bags and beat a hasty retreat to the door. You and Morna back off onto the steps of the stairs, raising the metal bat, eyes never leaving the man with the gun. The moment lasts for a lifetime, eyes sizing and guarding and hoping.

Suddenly, he growls, “This is for the other day,” and lunges at you, his gun raised. Morna snaps her jaws in warning, tensing to leap.

Instinct is gone. You swing for the fences and the gun. Someone must be looking out for you, because it connects and shatters his wrist and hand. You know. You hear the bones rend twisting cracks and his screams join the cacophany. The gun drops from his ruined appendage. He yells in rage, reeling back and throwing his whole weight into a haymaker. You don’t have time to react, off balance from your swing. There’s just a blinding flash of pain on your face when his fist connects. You yell and stumble back into the railing, dazed with your vision unfocused and hazy. You fight against your own body and it's inability, willing with every ounce of yourself to _stay awake_. When you finally come to your senses, you notice the man advancing once more, fist raised.

You scream at him, “ _Come on!_ ”

The furious wolfhound leaps. She latches onto his injured arm and begins to drag him bodily down the stairs like he was no more than a ragdoll in her jaws. He howls and struggles, wrenching his arm further. You slide down the side as the adrenaline that once kept you going now leaves your system. The man tries to hit Morna, forcing her to let him go. He takes the opportunity to sprint away from your apartment, beaten beyond any concept of victory. Morna barks and is about to give chase, but you call for her.

“ _Morna!_ Come!” You don’t want to lose her too. She needs to be kept safe, like she did for you.

Her ears perk and she bounds back to you, whining now. You hold her to you, your eyes becoming heavy. _Just a moment, that's all, just to get rid of this damn headache._... Maybe you only closed your eyes for a minute, you’re not sure, but you feel cold, wet streaks brush all over your face and that brings you back to harsh light and bright pain. Your eyelids slide open to see Morna panting in your face, blood coating the wiry fur around her mouth.

“Ok, ok,” you push away her snout. “’M awake.” Your trembling hand digs into your pocket, sluggish fingers searching for your phone. Your weak grip fails and you fumble the little metal block. “Fuck!” you groan. Morna whines low. You finally are able to dial 911 and tell them the short version of what happened. Hopefully they show up soon.

The next call is something you both can’t wait for and want to avoid with every fiber of your being.

The call rings. And rings. And rings.

“Shit,” you mutter, your face beginning to feel stiff, the pain steepening into sharp waves every time your heart beats it seems. Either Sans has no reception or he can’t talk right now. This weird, almost child-like part of you wishes you didn’t have to bother him, but the severity of the situation leaves you no choice. The phone beeps to leave a voicemail.

“Uh, hey, Sans. Sorry to interrupt your stuff, but you need to come here. Please. I—I, um, I’ve been…h-hurt and someone b-broke in. I’m alive though. So...I just wanted to let you know. I’ll try later. Come if you can." You pause to clear your dry throat. "I love you.”

You’re so close to falling apart. One more. Just one more and then you can rest. He picks up on the first ring. Your tears fall now.

“Papyrus. Can you come over, _please?”_

\-------

Sans’ fingers silence the buzzing quickly in his pocket for what must be the seventh time. Bones don’t make for good mufflers. And since when did he get so popular? It’s unusual, but he doesn't give it further thought. Maybe Papyrus couldn’t find some of his clothes or you were just leaving messages for later when he has a break. You'd done it before. Either way, there’s more important things happening right in this room, in front of him. Like the pressing question of how people like Moore get elected into office at all?

Sans is already ready for this to be over.

Education has been back on the table for most of the night. It seems like it’s been the easiest subject on which to agree. It might be because everyone recognizes the importance of children and their futures, but Sans mostly thinks it's because Toriel has been at the helm. When it comes to children, there's no better defender or advocate. Sans doesn’t have much to say, only speaking up when support is needed or for clarification. As far as the sciences go, at least.

Sen. Lee asks, “Should we next discuss allocations of resources?”

Toriel is about to speak, but Frisk tugs on her sleeve, a look of slight dismay plain on their features. She smiles. “How about a break, please?” Sans breathes a small sigh of relief as well. _Thanks, kiddo_.

Everyone nods and the air itself seems to relax with them. Sans stands and stretches his bones. It’s a draining process during the day, not to even mention how it is during the night. He feels more exhausted than usual. He pulls his phone out as he heads into the hallway. A skeletal brow furrows. It looks like he missed more than he thought. Three missed calls from you and four from Papyrus, with a smattering of messages. He listens to the latest voicemail, from his brother. His face goes slack. He doesn’t even finish listening to it. His shaking finger nearly stabs the screen to listen to yours, frantic and fearful. He doesn't want to listen, with every fiber, every magical strand in his body, he doesn't want to listen and have what he's hearing be true. It _must_ be a dream. Has to be. He only feels so disconnected and afraid when he has a nightmare.

His eyes disappear nonetheless.

“no…no, no, _no!_ ”

His voice rings out in the hall. He spins in a circle and spies Sully walking down the hallways towards him. Everything else is lost. Sans dashes up to him, skidding and grabbing Sully’s arm tightly.

“Hey, what’s the rush boy-o?” Sully exclaims, completely surprised but tensing.

He only has time to say, “have to go, ___ was attacked.” He lets go of Sully’s arm and teleports.

Sully’s jaw drops, too many questions and emotions flying through him.

“Shit….”

\-----

“ _Ow_ ,” you hiss pointedly.

The medic just chuckles and continues to wipe your cheek. Too fucking hard in your opinion. Your only comfort is Papyrus by your side, rubbing your back, and Morna a warm lump at your feet. The police are still wandering around your apartment, taking notes for their report. You haven't been able to talk to them much yet. You haven't really been able to _think_ past the fireworks going off in your head. You lean your elbow on your knee and rest your head in your hand, the throbbing becoming too much.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any sweet painkillers on you, would ya?” you ask, tired and half-hearted.

The medic smiles again and nods. “Yeah. But I think whatever you have should be fine, too,” he says with a knowing wink. You chuckle weakly and close your eyes.

“___!”

Your head snaps up and you cringe at the sudden movement. You see Sans, sockets wide and scared when he appears inside. He starts for you, but an officer intercepts him. Sans tries to push him aside, completely ignoring anyone else in his worry. 

“Hey, woah!” the officer shouts.

“It’s ok! It’s ok! Please!” you yell, standing up against the urgings of the medics. The officer looks back to you. Sans hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. “Please let him in. He’s my partner.” You start to cry and Sans’ face crumples. “Please….” The officer nods and steps back. Sans runs up and throws his arms around you, almost stumbling back on the stairs. You do the same to him. You can’t help your sobs now. They come uninhibited,  _he's_ here, your Sans, you don't have to hold yourself together anymore because his arms are doing that well enough on their own.

“Sans….”

He pulls back and his too-dim eye-lights take in the state of your face. His thumb glides over your bruised cheek and you suck in a sharp, difficult breath. “___...,” he whispers. Your head catches up with all of the commotion and forces you to sit. Sans helps you down back by Papyrus. The brothers share a quick, pained look.

“ _what happened?_ ”

Papyrus notices how exhausted you are and thankfully takes over. The medics need to finish up anyway. “From what ___ has told me, they came home to two men who were burglarizing their home. One of them fled and the other tried…,” he trails off unsure and hesitant to even say it.

“Tried to fucking shoot me.” Sans’ sharp intake of breath and squeezing of your hand show only a portion of how angry he is. His smile is long gone by this point. “I hit him with a bat and broke his arm. But then he punched me.” 

“And Morna protected them,” Papyrus says, scratching her ears. Sans looks at the alert wolfhound and does the same. He’s still unable to say everything you’re sure he wants to say.

The medic places some butterfly strips on your gash before slipping off his gloves and saying, “Alright. All done.” You sigh, grateful that the prodding is over. They start packing up all their gear.

Sans holds up a hand, taken aback. “wait, where are you goin’? they’re goin’ to the hospital.” There's no way you're not going. Surely they couldn't have taken care of everything right here? It's not a car crash, but dammit if it's not as serious, if not more!

You look up, frowning. “No I’m not.”

He scowls right back. “have you seen your face? this isn’t a discussion, you’re goin’.”

You turn to the medics while trying to ignore the escalation of your temper—not to mention Sans'—and your pounding head. “I’m not. Thank you for all your help.”

Sans’ livid gaze whips to you. “___!” he hisses. “you _have_ to go.”

The medics share a look and you wave to them that it’s ok for them to leave. You tug at Sans’ hand. “I _don’t_ want to go, so I’m _not going,_ ” you insist. Sans’ hold on you tightens and he clenches his jaw, indignant eyes pleading with you, the medics, with anyone. All he receives is silence and he nearly screams from frustration.

“If you don’t mind, we have some questions for you,” says one of the officers gently. You just nod and try standing. Sans stills you.

“i can help. let ‘em rest.” he says to the man. He'll take care of this at least, try to control  _something_.

“It’s mostly about what was taken,” the officer responds.

You nod. “He’ll know. If not, just come ask me.” Sans still looks reluctant to leave your side but he brushes your hair back before leaving to talk to the officers. His touch is soft; everything his anger isn't. You long for more, needing to be loved and treated carefully. You feel so weak, in many more ways than you truly want to be.  

It doesn’t take long and Sans gives them accurate information. He probably remembers more than you can right now. All you can think of is how incredibly tired you are. Once they're gone, Sans comes back. Morna licks his hand, yipping softly, when he kneels in front of you and Papyrus.

“I locked it, I swear,” you say, one corner of your mouth lifting in a fragile excuse for a smile. The other side is too stiff.

A pained expression wrecks across his face. His hand cups your unhurt cheek and he doesn’t acknowledge the slight joking tone in your voice. “don’t…it’s alright. ’m not even worried about that.” His eyes keep straying to your other cheek and his left seems to flash every time. “can you stand?”

“I can try.”

You bring your legs underneath you and grunt from the effort, Sans and Papyrus on either side of you. You can do this, you keep telling yourself, just take a step. _I'_ _ve been doing more than that all my damn life_. Still, your vision narrows and the stairs fly up toward you. But a pair of hard, strong arms catch you before you can tip and lift you up. You groan, your head rolling and tipping forward onto your chest.

“you’re ok, baby, you’re ok,” Sans’ voice breaks. You open your eyes and see both brothers' worried faces searching yours. You’re on the couch now. Sans digs into his pockets and brings out his phone. Morna sits right up against you, laying her long head on your torso.

“What’re you doing?” you mumble.

“calling tori,” he replies as he scrolls through his contacts.

“For what?” you ask, still confused.

He gestures to your face and says, “for this.”

You straighten, but cringe, just the motion causing you pain. Sans’ hand grasps yours. “You can’t bother her with this. She’s in a meeting. I’ll be fine,” you argue, jaw set.

His eyes flash in bitter anger and he shakes his phone. “you didn’t want to go to the hospital, so we’re _doing this_ ,” he growls. Your eyes widen and you want to look away but you know you can’t back down. Not now. Morna's whines fill the tense atmosphere, barely abated by Papyrus' reassuring pats. She senses everything, doesn't she?

“People get punched in the face every day, I’ll live.”

“paps, a little help?” Sans asks, very upset now. Try as he might, he can't hide it now. You get hurt and you don't want to go to the hospital, when you should. And now, when an opportunity to help you is within his grasp, that's taken from him too. 

Papyrus wrings his hands, unsure. “While I want them healed, it…it is their choice, Sans.”

Sans scrapes his hands over his skull, straightening suddenly and pacing around the room. “are you fucking kidding me?” he says harshly. "there's a way to  _heal you_. why won't you take it and stop being stubborn!" 

"Sans!" Papyrus chides.

His outburst surprises you. But it also fans your own flames. “Magic isn’t a cure-all and I’m not gonna abuse it! Not like I did with you that time downtown," you argue vehemently, in spite of your headache. “Especially when it’s something that’ll heal on its own just fine,” you add. Then slump. This is exactly what you didn't want. You just want to rest and for him to hold you and for someone to tell you everything's going to be alright. “Just…stop being angry.”

That reaches him. Pierces him with a directness that leaves him breathless. He sighs in remorse and grits his teeth. He'll drop this for now. He doesn't want to add to your pain. Once you're better, he'll try another way. His hand lays on your unmarked cheek, turning your face towards him gently, tenderly. “i _love_ you.”

“I love you too.” You smile. “And you too, Paps.” He smiles back at you. You lean back into the cushions and lay a hand on your forehead, wishing the pain away. You try to suppress it, not wanting to worry Sans more than he already is. “Hate to ask, but could one of you guys find me some painkillers, please?” Your face falls. “If there’s any left,” you add, nearly under your breath. Sans and Papyrus look at each other. They nod, silently understanding.

“Water,” Papyrus says.

“pills,” Sans agrees.

They leave and you pet Morna’s head absently, looking around your destroyed apartment. Your cushions and furniture have been slashed open, spilling out their cotton innards. Your eyes begin to burn and tears find their way down. You shut out the sad sight, your fatigue winning over.

After coming up empty in your bag, Sans headed upstairs and suddenly he finds himself pausing in dismay at the top step. His fists creak. Your bed has been ripped at the seams, the posters and pictures broken and rent. In the space of a single evening, your life has been torn apart, thrown up end over end. All he wants to do is sit and break down, comfort you, _anything_ else than see this. It's not his place, but it might as well be. He's spent so much time here, with you. And if he doesn't feel it just from companionship, he feels it from something that means so much more, from the very essence of you. Your face may have been hurt, but your soul took the real beating. It's so dark right now...sending out feeble pulses in the hope that it can connect to anything now. When he arrived, it latched on immediately and he's still feeling the effects. It makes him feel light-headed...like he's providing the strength for two. 

He shakes his skull and stalks over to your bathroom, but groans when he sees it. Shattered glass from your mirror is strewn all over the tile. His shoes crunch as he picks through the debris. He spots it. Fingers flick away the stray glass and he picks up the bottle of painkillers. He huffs.

“small miracles,” he mutters sarcastically. As he heads back he adds under his breath, “if i ever see those bastards…,” he pauses and grimaces wryly. “i’ll let ___ have ‘em first.” He rounds the corner and sees you already passed out on the couch, Morna in her place at your side. It’s such a strange sensation, feeling his chest tighten and relax all at once. He meets his brother.

“Should we let them sleep?”

He’s certain he feels as unsure as Papyrus looks.

“as much as i want to, they might feel worse in the morning if they don’t take these,” Sans answers with a small gesture of the pills. Papyrus just nods along. Sans kneels beside you and Morna and lays a hand on your head. “___.” No answer. His fingers stroke your hair and he repeats louder, “babe, wake up.” You stir finally and he feels that strange clench again. Your eyes find his and you smile faintly. Even after all this, you still manage to smile. God, he loves you so much. He holds up two pills. “take these and then you can sleep forever,” he says with an answering smile.

“You right,” you say blearily, taking the pills and the water, chugging them down quickly. You wince a little from the rigidity and pain in your head and face, but it’s necessary. You fall back and begin to slip once more into blissful sleep. Anything really to get rid of this ache. Both Sans and Papyrus watch you rest. Sans looks up at your trashed living room. Everything that’s left that is. It’s so unreal to him. It’s your place…but not your place anymore. “paps,” he says, patting Morna’s long head absently.

His brother looks to him, questioning. “Yes, Sans?”

“should we bring ‘em back to our place?” His eyes drift to your sleeping form. He was going to anyway, but he’s asking more so that he and Papyrus are on the same page. And maybe…for something more permanent in mind.

Papyrus rubs his chin. “I think we should. I do not like the idea of them staying here.”

“ya read my mind.”

“Will they be ok to travel?”

“think so,” Sans says as he rises.

“Teleporting would be faster. I could meet you at home after taking care of things here.”

He gives no argument. “alright. thanks bro.” Sans bends, sliding his arms under your legs and back, lifting you with a grunt. He cradles you to his chest and you barely stir at all. “see ya soon, paps.” Papyrus waves and Sans falls.

Papyrus looks around the apartment, his angular face, usually only ever bright and cheerful, now falling despite himself. How could this have happened? Why would anyone want to hurt you? To take your things? Strangers should not act like this to one another. This is no way to make friends. A deep sadness bubbles up within him, poisoning the well of positivity he draws from at every opportunity. His hands fidget, first balancing on his bony hips, then tangling together, as unsure of their purpose as Papyrus' foundation. 

Then a cold nose bumps them.

He looks down into soft, intelligent eyes and his agitation diminishes. He crouches in front of Morna, scratching her head, helping her, and so, helping himself. His fingers stop when they brush over the cracked, reddish-brown fur around her mouth. He thinks for a long moment. But it only takes him a minute to come back with a bowl of water and a rag and start wiping the fur down. Rusty water colors the cloth and leeches into the clean bowl, but all that matters to Papyrus is that it's off of Morna. She sits obediently, licking his hand whenever she gets a chance. Once done, he sets the bowl and rag down and rubs her cheeks. 

"Thank you, friend," he says with a quick nod. 

Morna licks his face.

\---

It’s only a moment and they’re in Sans' bedroom. He looks down to make sure you’re ok. You are well and truly down for the count. He lays you in his bed, drawing the covers over you once you're settled. His hands are careful of you, afraid to hurt you any more than you already are. He doubts he’s going to get any sleep tonight. But as long as you’re alive and with him, he can deal with it. He steps out of his room and over to the kitchen, grabbing some water should you need it. Despite everything that's happened...the night is still quiet. Wholly unchanged, though everything it surrounds has upended. His bed creaks when he perches gingerly on the edge, watching you sleep. Keeping an eye out for anything. Taking care of you like he promised. Like he always will do, no matter what.

It’s not long before Papyrus comes home with Morna trotting in behind him. He strides into Sans’ room, concern settling in his features again.

The large wolfhound stretches and puts her front paws on the bed before hauling herself nearly on top of your feet.

“morna,” he scolds. Even his admonishments sound weak to him. She just gives him her biggest puppy-dog eyes and he can’t bring himself to make her move. He strokes one of her ears instead.

“How are they?” Papyrus asks.

“fine so far. still sleeping.” Papyrus nods and crosses his arms as he thinks. “what’s up?”

“What happens when they recover?”

Sans arches a brow, but his jaw sets. “i don’t want ‘em goin’ back there,” he says finally.

“Agreed. If it happened once, it could very well happen again. And…if they do not catch the men responsible, after what they did to them, who is to say they will not come back.”

A deathly chill settles over Sans’ soul. Papyrus is right. Your apartment is the last place he wants you right now. He has an idea, but he doesn’t know what Papyrus would say about it. But it seems he doesn’t have to say anything.

“Brother…what if they moved in with us? It would be safer I think.”

Sans’ eyes shoot wide as he stares at Papyrus. “you’d be ok with that?”

“Well of course! Who would not want to live with us? We are very great after all.” Papyrus stands proudly, then winks and gives Sans a smug smile. “It is almost like they live here anyway.” Sans chuckles, lightened a bit by his brother’s teasing and unflaggingly positive attitude. He can always count on Papyrus for that.

“i think it’s a great idea,” Sans says quietly. “let’s ask ‘em in the morning when they feel better.”

Papyrus throws his arms in the air in excited victory. He asks, “Do you need me to watch them at all so you can get some rest?”

Sans shakes his head, a smile lifting his mouth for what seems like the first time tonight. “nah. you’ve done more than enough paps. get some rest. i’ll sleep later.”

Papyrus nods, reflecting Sans’ smile. “Good night, brother.”

“night,” he says as Papyrus closes his door behind him. He pulls up a chair and folds an arm under his chin to rest his skull on the bed. He stares at you for a long while, stroking your other cheek. He begins to fall unwilling into restless, shallow slumber.

Then his phone rings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thingsssss
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	58. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I'M YELLING BECAUSE THIS STORY IS 1 YEAR OLD (i know it's the day after, hush)
> 
> But seriously. I've been writing this for a whole year. That's crazy enough to call me crazy! It's been a wild ride. Ups....downs....side to side, these skeletons are now alive *doot doot doot dootdoot*
> 
> *cough*
> 
> So thank you for being here with me. All of your sweet comments and kind words have made such a huge, positive impact on my life and I know I'm better for it. Just hearing that this story has made you laugh at some point is MISSION ACCOMPLISHED for me. It's what I set out to do in the first place. So I give you more angsty, sad stuff to make up for it, like below lmao. It's nice and long though and good is on the horizon, don't you worry. I take care of you, wee chile. 
> 
> I love you all, my bb's <3

Sans jolts awake, rushing to answer the phone before it wakes you up.

“hello?”

“Sans, is everything ok?” the voice asks. It’s Sully. Though the voice is hard and strained, that familiar lilt still manages to shine through. Sans brushes your hand before standing and moving to step out of the bedroom.

“they’re alive and morna’s fine. more than fine,” he assures Sully.

He catches a rush of breath on the other line and it’s more obvious than ever that there was more than one loved one at risk tonight.

“___ got hit, but it coulda been a helluva lot worse if it weren’t for her. i…thank you, sully. don’t know what woulda happened if she hadn’t been there.”

Sans rests against the doorframe, placing his forehead on the arm above him. He tries to clear his throat and focus on anything else. The paint is starting to flake away from the wood in soft, fluttering chunks.

Sully hums through the phone and Sans can almost see him nodding. “All that matters is they’re alive. ___ is one tough cookie, don’t you worry. I’ll pass on the good news to everyone.”

“thanks.”

“Almost hate to ask, but would ya mind if I popped by? Just want to see Morna and them myself, ya know?” Sans picks up on the need in his rough voice.

“yeah, ‘course.”

“Thanks. See ya soon.”

They hang up and Sans stares at the phone a minute longer. He feels like he’s run a marathon and there’s still no chance of rest in sight. Everything aches; his bones, his skull, his soul. He gives some thanks to the fact that you’re asleep now. His breath comes easier now and he doesn’t feel as if a truck has parked right on top of his chest anymore. His soul no longer feels as if it was being wrought from the inside out, gripped in an ice-cold vice that would leech any spare strength he had. He just keeps telling himself you’re alive. You’re alive and with him now. He’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to you again.

He’s still in the same place when Sully arrives. The amber beams chase away the crawling night in the house, sweeping long, arcing tracks. Sans lets him in before he can knock, still reluctant to wake you. He takes a long look at the broadset man. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting. Sully sounded worried over the phone, and maybe he is still, but he sure doesn’t show it. Though bathed in darkness, the man’s gaze is focused, his face stern. Sans guesses it might be his military training or whatever the hell he does. But what does surprise Sans is the hug Sully gives him. His demeanor screams Business, but his actions continue to prove otherwise. Sans is glad he’s placed his trust in him.

When Sully pulls back, he holds Sans at arms length. He still has to stoop a bit though. “I’m sorry this happened, Sans.”

“me too,” Sans agrees with a half-assed excuse for a smile.

Sully echoes it and looks off to the open bedroom. “They asleep?” Sans nods and they both walk into his room. You still haven’t woken up, but the moment they step foot inside, Morna snaps awake, focusing her ebony eyes on Sully. She stretches her long neck out toward him and her tail begins to wag a soft beat on the bed. Sully strides over immediately and strokes her head and body gently, calming her. Sans can hear him whispering to her before placing a kiss on the top of her head. Sully eventually manages to coax her off the bed, though she sticks close by, unsure and torn. The man grins apologetically back to Sans.

Sans chuckles quietly. “she’s a special dog.”

“Aye. And a handful,” he coos, while scratching her ears. Sans continues to watch Sully while he takes a moment to inspect your face. He straightens and crosses his arms in front of him. Sans can’t see his face, but he can hear the bones of his hands creak. He turns and walks back over to Sans, Morna on his heels. They all leave you to sleep, shutting the door behind them.

“Messy hook, that. Like a haymaker,” Sully says. His face is concerned and steely now, with deep lines scoring the freckled surface.

“___ said he tried to shoot ‘em, but they broke his arm with a bat before he got a chance. he punched ‘em instead. then she,” he inclines his skull to Morna, whose tongue lolls out as she stares up at the two figures, “dragged him outside before he could do any worse.” Sully whistles low and pats Morna’s head in response.

“They make quite the team, huh,” he says absently.

Sans’ expression is wry. “a game i’d rather not play.” Sully grunts in agreement.

“i miss anything?” Sans asks, breaking the thoughtful silence between them.

Sully shakes his head. “Nah, nothing I or the Dreemurs can’t fill you in on. Just more of Moore being a prat as usual,” he grumbles.

“i’d say sorry i bailed, but _tibia_ honest, i’m not.” And he isn’t. He surely won’t be next time. But there’s not going to be a next time.

Sully chuckles now and grips Sans’ shoulder firmly. “That’s-a-boy.” He squeezes and a strange emotion wicks by Sans’ periphery. Like a scent you just barely catch and can’t quite place. Sans looks up. “You were needed somewhere more important.” Regret.

“yeah,” Sans mutters, distracted, his still-dim eyelights glancing over to his door.

“I’ll let you get back to them,” Sully says. He hugs the skeleton one more time and shares a goodbye before leaving into the cold night. Sans takes his place in the chair beside you again, sliding his hand into yours. You respond, tightening around his fingers weakly. That they respond at all finally gets to him, piercing him right through and he really can’t help the small tears that track down from his sockets now. He rests his skull and arms on the bed, falling asleep only when the morning starts to creep in.

\-----

You open your eyes to numbing pain. Your brow furrows and if it weren’t for the nagging stiffness in your face, you’d be asleep again in a heartbeat. You turn your head and see Sans asleep at your side. The ache in your heart begins to overshadow the former. You hear a muffled groan and see Sans is waking up, sockets blinking blearily.

“Morning, sunshine,” you whisper.

He comes to quickly when he notices you’re awake. He moves to sit next to you on the bed, flickering eye-lights searching your face and fingers probing your injury.

“how do you feel?” he asks. He skirts the bruise and you desperately try not to cringe away. You’re not sure you were fast enough, because you see Sans’ jaw work and set.

“Stiff and sore, but otherwise alright all things considered. Kind of exhausted,” you admit.

“you should just rest today,” Sans says.

“If my head stops pounding then I will.”

Sans immediately starts to rustle through his pockets, unearthing some painkillers. You struggle to sit up, managing to pull your legs free of the tangled sheets. You down the pills quickly, knowing that the sooner you take them, the sooner you can begin to feel better. Once done, he bends and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes close a moment, relishing the tender contact.

You ask, “How are you?” He shrugs. Your brow furrows in your own concern. “Babe, you need to sleep, I’m ok.”

“you aren’t though. you’re so far from ok…,” he whispers, choked.

“Sans…come here.” You pull on his trembling arms and he relents, wrapping you up. You draw him close, easing your lips on his mouth. He sighs but doesn’t press, still careful.

“almost thought i wouldn’t get to do that anymore…,” he murmurs.

“Sans….” Your hand lays on his skull and rubs the smooth planes there.

He hides his face in your shoulder, clenching your shirt and body, unable to keep the lion’s share of his emotions at bay anymore. “i was so scared i’d lost you…,” he finally says, breaking.

You wrap your arm around his skull, cradling him. Your lips press to his skull and he starts to shake. “Shh, baby, just let it out…. I’m here. I’m ok. We’re ok,” you repeat into the quiet room. “I love you.”

He looks up after taking a deep, and much more stable breath, meeting your eyes. “i love you too.” Sans pauses. Does he dare? While a decent part of him warns that he should just let it go, his emotions spur him onward, raw and exposed and needing answers. Needing solutions. “why won’t you go to the hospital?”

Your eyes widen for the briefest of seconds before focusing on your hands. “I just…don’t,” you say, coming up short. Sans gives a disbelieving grunt and waits. He’s good at that, knowing the silence will build, and push, and wheedle its low way in until you yield.

You, on the other hand, begin to sear with hot anxiety. The hospital is the last place you want to go. You just want this all to be done, forgotten, so you can go on with your life. You don’t need more people prodding at your face, it already hurts enough, not to mention your pride and emotional well-being. As well as your wallet.

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“that’s not good enough. you’re _hurt_ ,” he argues.

“Well, I’m hurt enough, ok? I don’t need more, I’ve got plenty to deal with,” you snap impatiently. You see his wide sockets, the shock, and you have to look away. A breath escapes you, heavy but fast, trying to relieve the pressure in your chest and head. You don’t want to be angry with him. He’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“’s ok,” he says, fingers sliding around yours. You glance up and see a more sullen expression pulling down his features. It doesn’t make your heart ache any less. “would you at least consider seein’ tori?” he tries once more.

“Sans,” you sigh.

“i’m not buyin’ that whole ‘abusing magic’ thing you’re sellin’. it’s being offered, and it’d be stupid to turn it down.” You wrinkle your brow at him, eyes flashing.

“’M not stupid.”

He just cocks his own brow and throws you a small, sly grin, one that knows it has caught its prey. “i know, which is why you should take it.” You roll your eyes, trying to play off the smile that threatens to overthrow your indignant regime.

“Plus, _you’re_ offering, not her,” you needle, trying to find any chink in his armor. Your efforts at damage control are being efficiently dismantled and thrown into the incinerator. You don’t want to trouble anyone. This has already caused more than you had ever wanted.

“d’you really think she’d refuse?” Sans asks with the assuredness of someone who has nothing to hide with the truth behind his every word. But it acquires a sad gloss over the confident finish, when he says, “if i could heal you, i would…. but i can’t.”

That gives you pause. “If I say I’ll think about it, will that satisfy you?”

His grin turns wry. “i know a feint when i see one, babe. _i’m_ not stupid.”

You plead, “I’ll think about it seriously, I promise.”

“i’ll call tori today and you can think about it _seriously_ with her,” he says, pleased as punch.

You just groan, resting back against the headboard. “Fine.” His arms wrap around you anyway, and you hug him back. Despite the arguing, the reluctance, the need for contact is something neither of you can ignore. Not after everything that’s happened. You both sit there, holding each other for a long while.

You finally ask, “How is my place?”

His hand runs through your hair, tone despondent. “not great. paps mighta cleaned up while i took you here.” Tears slide down your face, thinking of everything that could have been taken. Your anxiety threatens you again, but you try to push it down.

“Can I see it?” you can’t help but ask.

He gazes at you for a long moment, brow furrowing. Like he’s at war with himself. “you should rest more.”

“I’ll have to go back sometime. I…I need to make sure of some things before I forget or worry more,” you argue gently.

Sans frowns, looking away while he thinks. Might as well get it over with now. Even if the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe seeing it will break the ice in terms of you coming to live with them. “you feel ok enough?”

“I think so.”

He gives a sharp nod and you both get up from bed. It takes you a minute. Your body feels like lead, and your head is spinning from the change in position. But Sans is there, holding your hands, doubt in every part of his tired face.

“we don’t have to go today,” he reiterates, almost half hopeful.

“No,” you say quickly. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He sets his jaw, not really believing you, but letting you do this anyway. You stand and he draws you close, hugging you to him.

“let me know when you wanna leave,” he whispers.

“We haven’t even gotten there yet,” you say with a slight chuckle.

“still.” The lack of humor in his voice is disconcerting at best. You just nod. “get ready.” His eye flares and you both fall into your living room. You open your eyes to peer over Sans’ shoulder. They widen and your fingers get lost in his sweater. You had barely registered the state of your apartment last night. You might have guessed. Maybe you even felt it, knew deep down the reality. But now that your head is in a considerably better place than it was, you now know how utterly wrecked it is.

Everything is so bare.

Everything is so…destroyed.

There are so few books and movies on your shelves now it’s almost laughable. Forget about the small figures you had. As well as the posters and tapestries on your walls. The only remainder of those are scraps that litter the ground, or still hang ripped from their pinnings. Your numb arms drop from Sans, as well as tears from your eyes. You step back and turn, Sans hovering closely. He seems to reach for you, unsure of whether to bring you back or let you wander. He decides to place them in his hoodie pocket for now. His dim eye-lights keep careful watch of you though. You wanted to do this, so he’s going to let you. You were right in this. You need to see it sometime. Shit, it sounds selfish, but maybe it will make you realize that it’d be safer for you to be with him and Papyrus. He’s going to let it be your choice though.

You absorb the ruined remains of your home. Your _home_. It feels so far from that now. It’s some sick skeleton, a reminder of what it used to be. Someplace safe and _yours_. But not anymore. You don’t feel safe here anymore. Not with those too-white walls, the scattered and taken memories, stolen from _your_ place. You walk in a daze to the remains of a tapestry, limp and lifeless and silent. Your fingers slide up the torn fabric. How _dare_ they? Anger leads you, tugs you harshly out of your weakened control.

“ _Fuck!_ ” you yell as you rip it down and throw it across the room.

You brace yourself against the bookcase, breathing hard, head throbbing. A hand lays heavy on your back, drifting and circling up. Sans appears in front of you, his eyes dim.

“look at me. breathe,” he coaxes. His fingers drag through your hair and you inhale and exhale with him.

The anger dissipates almost as soon as it comes, a wave breaking violently upon the overwhelming sadness that replaces it; so much so that it surprises you. You didn’t know you could cry or feel so much all at once. _Why?_ is all you can think now. You hardly feel the pain in your face anymore. Sans lets you go and you move, your shuffling steps carrying you over to the stairs. Your hand reaches out for the bannister, gripping it hard as you catch the dried blood on the carpet. The bat, your saving grace, lies not far away. Kind of looks like it has blood on it too.

Good.

Sans comes up behind you, a hand coming to rest on your hip. Yours drops to squeeze it for a second, reassuring him as much as yourself. You walk up the stairs, steeling yourself and ignoring the crimson splotch for now. You don’t pay attention, but Sans stops and stares at it for a moment before following. You enter your room, and if you didn’t feel violated downstairs, you do here. Here, where you keep your most precious things. The overabundance of emotions has almost caused you to feel nothing anymore. But…here they come back, new and coarse and painful as hell. Your steps become more rushed, desperate for _anything_ to be safe and yours still.

You throw open broken drawers, rifling through the few contents, pushing away anything not important, not _part of you_. The lamp is broken, your books scattered, your memories ripped. You find yourself in front of your nightstand without even realizing it. But when you do, dread settles sharply in your heart. You barely hear Sans’ voice. Your shaking hands search, sprinkled by your own tears. _Not…not there—they’re not there_. _No_. Your face hurts, your throat hurts, your chest hurts, your eyes hurt. You try to straighten but stumble, falling to your knees with your head in your hands. Sans is there to catch you, hugging you close. You can’t stop the sobs from tearing your throat apart. You press your bowed head into his sternum, hands fisted against your crying eyes. His hand strokes your hair, whispering to you. You can barely catch any of it, but just the soft rumble is enough to start easing your storm-ridden soul.

“They took them…,” you cry.

“took what?” he asks, mouth pressing to your head. He hates seeing you this distraught. It’s so unlike you.  

You can’t stop shaking, feeling this unimaginable weight on your heart and soul. “My grandparent’s wedding rings. It was all I had left of them,” you sob as fresh tears fall from your eyes. You had kept them in your nightstand, convinced in the fact that there they would remain, close to you, maybe slipping in and out of memory, but always constant in the background. You might not have thought of them as often as you should, but to lose them was truly unthinkable. Until now.

You sound so broken. Though he feels acutely how distraught you are, he’s still not sure of what to say. “i’m sorry…,” he whispers, gently kissing your head. “maybe the police will catch them.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, not entirely hopeful. Exhaustion begins to take its toll, dragging you down. Sans’ hands come to rest on either side of your face, lifting it to meet his. His thumbs wipe away the stray tears. Those compassionate lights that make up his eyes look into yours. They’ve brightened.

“do ya wanna hear what i think?”

You nod. You don’t like worrying him. It’s not often you break down like this and you’re almost positive it’s freaking him out. A kind, serious smile joins his low voice.

“i think…that your grandparents would want you safe and happy. their souls aren’t attached to those rings. they’re with you, all around. that’s what matters.”

You peer up at him, eyes widening. “You know that?” you ask, voice soft. Were you in any other situation, in any other universe where you didn’t know souls actually exist, you might dismiss what he said as just a nice way to ease your worries. But your hurt tempers, knowing full well that souls are very real. Sans has given you no indication that he would lie to you, _especially_ when it comes to souls.

He gazes at you tenderly, genuine smile stretching his face now. “souls never really _leave_. conservation of energy,” he adds with a tiny quirk of his mouth. He grows a bit more sincere. Pensive almost. “they leave imprints on the people closest to them. and when people die, traces of them stay behind.”

You close your eyes, lip trembling as you start to cry again. You sit up, arms hugging Sans’ neck and shoulders, head nestling by his skull. His arms enfold you. Part of him is still worried for you, but he can feel the strain on your soul lessening, the claws of anxiety and heartache retreating from it, and from his as well. Every day it gets stronger. And this close, he feels you keenly, every emotion plain as it passes through his own. He just wishes he could do more to control or help it. Soothe it. He expects that’ll come when he touches it. Until then…he’ll have to try the hard way.

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back to look at his face. His hand cups your cheek.

“don’t mention it.”

He stands and helps you up. You rub your face and work hard on composing yourself. Part of you wants to clean, try and repair the damage that’s been done, but, god, you’re not even sure where to start if you did. It all seems such a loss. They hit you right where it hurt and somewhere deep inside you, despite all your arguments to the contrary, you feel like it’s going to take a long time for you to recover from this. As you pack up some stray clothes and things worth salvaging that you _need_ in the next few days, you’re very glad you have somewhere to go for now.

Your hands fidget with the straps of your canvas luggage bag. “You’re sure you don’t mind that I stay with you until this is taken care of?”

“no,” he says immediately. “that’s actually something i wanted to talk to you about when we get home.”

Your eyes meet his steady ones. _Home_. You have a feeling you know what it’s about, but you’ll abstain from your questioning until you’re settled. Once you have everything, you and Sans leave. You instinctually lock the door on your way out, only to find it doesn’t anymore. Your brow furrows and you just stare at it for a long moment.

“___?” Sans calls by your truck.

“Coming,” you reply. You throw your things into the bed unceremoniously, upset. You would’ve driven, but maybe Sans can tell your mood. Maybe he just wants you to take it easy. Who knows. You’re a little past caring at this point. The realization that you’ll have to speak to the insurance company about all of this too suddenly hits you full force in the chest. You groan and lean your head on the window, wishing for this all to be over, if not erased completely. Right now, it all seems like an impassable barrier, blocking you at every turn, massive and frightening in the shadow of its intimidation.

“you ok, babe?” Sans asks, glancing over.

“As I’ll ever be,” you answer, dejected. Sans reaches over and takes up your hand, squeezing hard. You finally arrive and bring your meager belongings inside the brothers’ house. Papyrus is busy in the kitchen. He looks up when you and Sans come in.

“How are you feeling, friend?” Papyrus asks, striding up to you. Sans takes your things to his room while Papyrus looks you over. You get a kind of déjà vu, recognizing the bearing and demeanor that Sans had this morning. If a bit more in control.

“Hangin’ in there, thanks, Paps,” you say, patting his arm. He takes your hand up, sandwiching it gently between his own. Sans comes up to you both, scratching his neck and looking like he’s searching for the words to start.

He speaks up, “babe…me ‘n paps got somethin’ to ask ya.” You look between the two of them, a little bit wary, but mostly curious. “what would you say to moving in with me and paps?” he finally asks.

Your eyes widen and you struggle to find words to articulate the feelings that are coursing through you. You step back and bump against the armrest of the couch, propping heavily on it. Sans and Papyrus exchange a worried look. When you don’t answer right away, Sans hurriedly tries to explain, “i’m not forcin’ ya into anything you don’t wanna do. i just don’t want you going back there by yourself. really…really at all. paps is worried too….”

Papyrus pipes up, “We just do not want you hurt again. We believe it would be safer.”

You wave away their hasty concerns, smiling softly. “You don’t have to explain yourselves.” Both brothers visibly relax.

You breathe out a soft sigh as you think. You’ve been by yourself for so long. While adjusting to two new roommates would be ok, fine even, no big deal…it’s just losing that sense of _your_ _space_ that concerns you. But…you already did lose it. You push away the bleak thought, instead focusing on the kind brothers in front of you. You love them both and you know they’d do everything they could to make you comfortable. Sans especially.

“It’s crossed my mind. And now…it’s something I seriously need to consider.”

Sans stares intensely as he asks, “and?”

“And I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.”

He smiles faintly as he takes your hand. He can sense your hesitation though. “but?” he urges.

Your face falls as nervousness sets in. “I’m afraid?”

“Afraid of what?” Papyrus asks.

“I guess… I guess I’ve just been alone so long that I’m afraid of like…losing myself? If that makes sense? It probably doesn’t.” You frown.

“it makes sense,” Sans assures you. “but you’ll always be you. and you know we’d give you your space, right?” He looks to Papyrus for confirmation, who is only too happy to give it.

“Yeah,” you say, buoyed by their encouragement.

“and i’m sure you’d make me,” he chuckles. You laugh at that, kissing his hand before you become serious.

“I really wouldn’t mind. It doesn’t have to do with you guys, I promise.”

“i know. but paps had a good point. what if those _fuckers_ weren’t caught?” he hisses. Even Papyrus frowns now, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “what if they came back? you really let one of ‘em have it, and i’m sure he’s less than pleased. at least here…if that happened…there’d be two more people to protect you. protect each other.”

A strange, conflicted, fiercely independent part of you wants to say that you don’t need to be protected. But…you obviously do. Not only because of what happened, but because Sully felt it was needed in the first place. He was right. They were all so right that it hurts you that you’re wrong. And you paid dearly for it. You look back up at Sans and Papyrus.

“Do you really think I should?” you ask. This is their decision as much as it is yours.

“yes,” Sans responds without hesitation.

“Yes, friend.” Then Papyrus claps his hands. “It will be like a VERY LONG sleepover!”

You chuckle. “Well that answers that.” Sans’ hand raises to cup your cheek.

“i just want you _safe_.”

“I know. I want to be safe too. I…I want to _feel_ safe,” you admit with a sigh. His face falls and looks torn between anger and sympathy. “Because I don’t. Not there,” you say, thinking about the ruined apartment.

“you will,” he promises. “we’ll be there for you.” The fire in his eyes tells you that will be the case no matter what.

“Yes!” Papyrus shouts. You smile at them both, your heart beginning to fill and _feel_ for the first time since your attack. “Would you both like something to eat?”

You hum and Sans says, “yeah, that’d be great, paps. thanks.” The tall skeleton nods enthusiastically and springs back into cooking mode. Sans, meanwhile, steps close, tilting your head up so he can place a soft kiss to your lips. You clasp his hand. He whispers, “i meant what i said. i’ll be there for you, babe.”

“I know.” You kiss him once more.

“now even more since i won’t be at the meetings,” he says offhand as he helps you up.

You balk and nearly stumble, surprise seizing your muscles. “What?” you exclaim.

He meets your eyes dead-on. “’m not goin’ to the meetings anymore.”

You almost don’t even know what to say, you’re so taken aback. You try to convince yourself he means something else, play it off. “You mean just for now right?”

“no, i mean i’m not going at all anymore.”

You suck in a breath and glance to the kitchen and see that Papyrus hasn’t noticed the way you know this conversation might go. Your fatigue nearly forces you to forgo this argument, but it can’t wait. It’s now or never. You decide to take it somewhere more private, tugging Sans back into his room and shutting the door behind you. He grunts in confusion, but you cut him off, asking, “Why not?”

“remember? i said at the first sign, i’d be out. so i’m out.” He growls now, “though i should’ve gotten out sooner. _this_ wasn’t the first sign.” Both of his hands lay on your face now and he’s full of remorse instead of fury. He traces your injury with the lightest touch. “i’m just so sorry i let it get this far.”

“You can’t,” you say dumbly.

“watch me,” he retorts, matter-of-fact.

Now your own anger starts to burn. “You said it yourself that they might be back. Do you think they’ll stop _now_? Oh, they got their rocks off tearing up my place and punching my face in, so now they’ll just…go away? Satisfied?” You throw your hands up as you argue. His drop from your face, his jaw set in incensed frustration.

“they might. they got what they wanted,” he hisses and gestures to your face and out in the vague direction of your apartment. _Where you used to live._

“No. They didn’t. Sans, they wanted to _kill_ me. He would have shot me, or who knows what else.” Sans’ pupils dim considerably at that. You continue anyway, forcing down your shudders. “They didn’t get to only because of Morna.”

His sockets widen and you see his eye flash, bright and hot.

“If we give up now, we’re sitting ducks. They know I was hurt. They won’t hesitate to do it again. And they certainly won’t stop because you’re out of the talks.”

“i can’t take that chance, ___!” he shouts now, fierce and unconcerned with who hears it as long as you do.

You hit it right back, just as stinging. Forgetting the pain in your face and head for now. It’s only going to get worse. “Well _I_ can! It’s my life too, Sans! If I can, you can.” He backs away, turning to stalk a livid circle around his bedroom. “We have to show them we’re strong. That they haven’t beaten us. That they haven’t beaten _me_ , _dammit_!” you yell, your own tears mixing in and tearing the end of your sentence into shreds. Sans recoils, jaw going slack while his eye flashes again. You continue only because you can’t stop. “Go on like normal because fucking _everything_ is changing.” You turn away to look up at the ceiling and cross your arms, hugging yourself to keep everyone else out. Your resentment at the situation is enough to keep you from breaking down completely this time. God knows you fucking want to; you’re trembling from the effort.

But then Sans steps in front of you, his hands gripping your upper arms with a firm strength. His pupils are dim, but his face is set. He wants to make his next words clear.

“i don’t want you hurt again.”

“Well I won’t be, probably. Not when I’m living with you. ’Cause that’s what it’s for, right?” you say. His brow raises at that. Your words had come out a little harsher than you intended.

He looks off for a moment. “’s not all.” He sighs and all of his hot outrage turns into a different kind of passion. “i _want_ you here. with me.”

It’s strange, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to really define or explain it, that how under all of the stress and bitterness, you can still feel happy at that thought. Though, it’s not really strange at all, when you know how much you love each other. And that’s enough to break that barrier you’ve erected, finally chipping you away until all that’s left are you and him and what you share. Your face crumples and your tears fall steadily now. Sans draws you close in a hug and you return it tenfold, arms locking tight behind his shoulders. “i mean it, ___. i’d be happiest with you with me, regardless of circumstances.”

“I want to be with you, too,” you whisper. His hand rises to tangle itself in your hair and his skull dips to your neck. You try to clear your throat of the lump that is suffocating you. You say, stronger now, “I don’t want to give up. And I don’t think you want to either. You’re just as mad as I am. But…I’m not going to tell you what to do. That’s—that’s not how we work. But now that I’m going to live with you and Paps, I _really_ want you to keep going. For you, for me, for us. We _have_ to move forward. We can’t live in fear forever,” you add, voice quieting. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

He would have thought it would be harder to say, and maybe it still is, but when he says, “i promise,” he means it. He’s not _that_ stupid.


	59. Healing

Breakfast feels…normal. More normal? Normal enough anyway. Thankfully, Papyrus didn’t hear your argument with Sans. Or if he did, he just chose not to say anything. You slump back in your chair and take slow sips of your coffee, relishing the feeling of something in your stomach and trying not to focus on the pain in your face. It’s diminishing somewhat, the painkillers doing their job. In the meantime, Sans had gotten up to take a call and you’re almost positive it’s either Asgore or Toriel. You groan internally. You’re not looking forward to facing her. You have a sobering feeling that she’s in Sans’ corner with this one.

“Thanks for breakfast, Paps. Just what I needed,” you say.

“Of course!” he exclaims. But then pauses and focuses on you with this penetrating stare that locks you in place. “Everything will be alright, friend.”

So much for not hearing anything.

“You heard all that?” you ask, cringing.

He throws you a sneaky smile, one that could just as easily be seen on Sans’ face. “You are almost as loud as me.” You snort, hiding your face in your hand from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“It is alright! Things are…,” he waves his long hand around, searching for the right word, “strange right now.” Strange is right. You were thinking more ‘Fucked’ though. “But they will be ok! You will be ok! And with us! I know that Sans is happy about it, just as I am.”

You break out into a cautious smile. “Thank you for opening your home to me. It…it really means a lot, Paps. More than you know.”

It sure as hell makes your life a lot easier, which is just the thing you need right now. Papyrus grins and pats your head before standing and cleaning up the dishes. You move to help but he just pushes you back down, insistent on doing it himself. You won’t argue, still feeling that sick exhaustion.

Sans walks back in, announcing, “tori ‘n asgore’ll be here soon.”

You figured as much, nodding absently and taking a pull from your mug. His hand slips behind your neck, massaging gently. Your head dips in an instant, without any extraneous input from you. Your body knows what it wants.

“did you wanna rest before they get here?” he asks.

“Nah, ’s ok. I will after,” you mumble, still caught up in his fingers. You hear him chuckle and once Papyrus is done in the kitchen you all move to the couch. Which is both fantastic and a near death sentence for you, because the plush cushions invite and entice you to sleep. Coupled with the continuing massage on your neck, you’re more than halfway to Slumber Town. That is until the knocks come.

You jerk back to a semblance of consciousness and follow the two brothers to the door, though a fair bit slower. Papyrus throws open the door and in strides Toriel, Asgore a close second. Just her fervor is enough to daunt you and nothing has even happened yet.

“Child, are you alright?” she asks, grasping your shoulders with a soft, warm grip. Her usually calm voice is pitched much higher than you remember. You find it bothers you. She shouldn’t be worried about you and all you want to do is reassure her, them, everyone. Asgore peers over the top of her, the concern just as evident in his face as on hers.

“I’m alright, honest,” you blurt.

Nevertheless, Toriel steers you toward the couch and you throw Sans a semi-accusatory look. You both knew this would happen, and Sans seems to be the only one happy about it. He’s focused, but still with a hint of a pleased smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Asgore draws both brothers into conversation while Toriel takes command of you, steering you back to the couch. She cradles your face in her furry paws, turning it this way and that to get a decent look. Her thumb brushes the cut and bruise and you instinctively let out a hiss. Her violet-red eyes widen.

“It’s ok, really. Just tender.”

“It is not ok,” she chides, glancing back at Sans, who breaks away from the hushed murmurings. “You should have told me to arrive sooner.”

“there was a lot goin’ on,” he answers in his defense.

“And I insisted I was fine, which I am,” you pipe up in Sans’ defense, not to mention your own. The look Toriel gives you almost makes you wish you hadn’t. “It’s just a bruise,” you say in a small voice. “It’ll heal fine.”

“Yes it will, because I will heal it for you,” she says with the utmost confidence. The words come easy, but bubble with caution, a warning you don’t miss.

You brace yourself. “I meant…on its own.”

“Do not be silly.” When she sees that you’re serious, she looks back at Sans again. He just shrugs.

“i told ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. _Thanks for the throw under the bus, I’ll be sure to send you a postcard_.

“There is no reason why you should not be healed.”

You grip her paw. “Because I can’t have you heal me every time I get hurt.”

She chuckles, disbelieving, but you just furrow your brow. “Except that I am offering to do this.” You catch a glimpse of Sans giving you a pointed stare. You steadfastly ignore him.

“You really don’t need to,” you start.

Asgore seems to pick up on your reluctance, a dually anxious Papyrus behind him, because he warns lightly, “Tori.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Toriel commands now. You shut up, cowed. Asgore sighs, knowing he’s lost a battle he had hardly even started. “Sans is right. You are as good as family to us and I take care of my own.” Her voice is hard and full of regal tenacity, as if declaring law instead of giving a lecture. Either way, it still hurts. “It is folly to deny help if you are offered it. So be still, you will need your strength for healing, not for arguments.”

And there it is. You sit back, feeling exactly like a scolded child. It’s strange how just a few words said in the right way can open a door and hurtle you years into the past, revert to a time you’d rather leave behind. Your eyes want to dart to Sans again, heart begging for sympathy. But you can’t, not wanting to see a smug expression in its place. You already feel bad enough, having lost this fight. Not to mention you feel guilty for putting up a fight at all and reacting so poorly.

“I want you to know I appreciate this. Very much,” you say quietly to Toriel.

Sans’ smile trips when he hears you. He can’t say he’s not satisfied with the way things are going. He only wants you whole and well. But he didn’t want you yelled at for only trying to cause as little trouble as possible. Though Tori had a good point. You’ve offered your help so freely, so often, to him and his friends and family, it’s only fair and right for it to be offered to you in return. Not really because they _have_ to. But because they _want_ to. Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s always sincere and Sans can’t fault you for that, nor should you be punished for it. He just hopes you feel better once you’re healed. Warm up to the fact that you can handle all of this better once you’re not plagued by fatigue and focused on your pain. Maybe you and he can talk about it later. Without yelling this time.

Meanwhile, Toriel smiles kindly at you, her former ire gone. “We know. We only wish to help, my child.” She places her paws on either side of your face, but you don’t flinch this time. Her touch is even softer. “I am going to use my magic to heal you. It may take a while, depending on how extensive your injury actually is. And you will feel tired afterwards.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Because my magic induces the healing process, rather than completing that itself. Your body does the rest,” she explains calmly, like a teacher might. “I must warn you, you may also feel some discomfort in the beginning.”

Great. You nod and brace yourself. A stern, concentrated expression settles into her face and her hands begin to glow this low, forest green. It also radiates a heat that at the surface _feels_ familiar, like Sans’ magic, but underneath sparks a persuasive energy, a kind of potential that fundamentally resonates a different pattern to your body. It seeps in.

You exhale short and sharp, tensing. She wasn’t kidding. It _hurts_. You screw your eyes shut, feeling your nerves pinch and pull and knit back together. Feel your muscles burn, your own energy surging and concentrating in your face. You wait very long moment. Finally, the pain begins to dwindle and you now feel a pleasantness start to grow, almost like anesthesia. Your face numbs, battered muscles soothed by the magic. It doesn’t really feel like your body is doing anything anymore. The ship sailed through the storm and all is calm, or so it seems. It might just be something you have to take in stride, because it feels like the magic is doing all the hard work.

That’s not quite the case when she finishes.

The heat retreats and you’re left breathing very deeply, almost as if you were asleep or will be very soon. Your limbs are heavy and wooden as you melt into the couch. You think you could sleep for days if they let you. You doubt Sans would have a problem with that. Hell, he might even join you at this rate. Your eyes blink open, finding several other vibrant pairs focused on you.

“How do you feel?” Toriel asks.

Your hand raises to press your cheek as gentle as possible. You expect to feel some pain, but you find nothing. You press harder. Still nothing. It’s only when you really try do you feel almost a memory of pain. “Wow,” you whisper. Toriel chuckles and everyone lets out a collective breath. “Just tired now,” is all you add.

“You must rest,” Asgore says. His deep voice is the perfect thing to fall asleep to you think errantly. A nice, warm blanket….

“Mhmm,” you hum, nodding in more ways than one. You go to stand, but find you hardly have the energy or motivation. You reach out for a hand, any hand really. Sans’ is there. It slips into yours, right where it belongs. He pulls you up, but when he sees you’re unable to stand without help, he picks you up with a grunt. You realize you’re losing your wherewithal, and rush to say, “Thank you,” to Toriel.

“Of course,” she says as she grips your outstretched hand.

Your body tells you that your part is done and it curls into Sans’ embrace. He takes you back into his bedroom, trying not to jostle you to much as he settles you into bed.

He takes a closer look at your cheek. He’s always surprised at how efficient and effective Toriel’s healing magic is. The cut is long gone, the bruise underneath only a bad memory. The color has come back in a much healthier way now. A rosy warmth, rather than angry crimson and dark blues. Your hand slides on top of his.

“You happy?” you ask. But it’s without any maliciousness. Instead he gets the vague murmurings of sincerity from your soul. It tells him that you want him happy, that it’s important to you. Like your happiness is to him.

“getting there,” he answers. You grunt in acknowledgement and squeeze his hand weakly before finally falling asleep. Sans lays a blanket over you, feeling his own soul begin to release some of the tension it’s held since last night. Has it only been since last night? It feels ages ago, already.

He shuts his door behind him and reenters the circle of monsters in the living room.

“thank you,” he says to Toriel. She smiles as she stands.

Asgore asks the question everyone was waiting for, “What of their home?”

Sans sighs. “wrecked.”

“They are going to live with us,” Papyrus adds.

“That is for the best I would think,” Toriel muses, looking up at Asgore. He nods, but is pensive still, heavy head bowed.

“When do they plan to retrieve their belongings?” he asks.

“dunno. soon as possible, probably.”

Asgore straightens, a small smile playing across his face. Toriel smiles too, seeming to know what he’s going to say next. “We shall be there to help.”

Sans and Papyrus look at each other, grins tempting their own features. “Thank you!” Papyrus says happily. Sans echoes it, a bit more subdued, but no less grateful.

“Please let us know if you need anything else,” Toriel says. Asgore agrees with a nod of his horned head.  

“we will, thanks.”

Besides his brother, Sans would be hard pressed to find anyone kinder. It’ll be a great help for them to be there. And not even as extra pairs of hands; he’s not sure you even have enough left for that. But more as support. He knows you want to be strong for yourself and for him and the others, but he knows what a difference having loved ones around can make. He’s living proof of that. After they have left, Sans rubs his face and stretches, his bones rattling.

“Did you sleep, brother?”

“not exactly?” Sans says, laughing somewhat. Papyrus groans and pushes Sans to his bedroom door.

“Sleep,” he commands.

“but-”

“Sleep!”

Sans holds up his hands, smiling and giving up. Though there wasn’t much fight in him to begin with. “thanks, paps.”

Sans enters and he crawls right into his bed, worried for a moment that you’ll wake up. He doesn’t need to though, you’re out like a light. He releases a huge sigh, letting his body relax, his weight sink into the mattress from his place on his back. Ready to turn off for a while. You’ve hardly moved, all but for your hand. It’s slipped from your chest to lay beside him. His hand takes it up without a second thought, clasping it tight before he falls asleep with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you gotta pick your battles, bbs.
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com


	60. Moving Slightly Forward But More Adjacently Across Town

The morning light dripping through the curtains untangles the dark shadows of the room. But it’s not yet enough to dispel the chill. You shiver and your eyes open despite your body’s want for the opposite. The covers lie in a haphazard bundle across you and Sans, exposing more of you to the cold air than is necessary. You pull them back to your chin.

“What year is it?” you mumble to yourself, groggy and displaced.

You’re kind of surprised when Sans answers, just as sleepily, “six in the mornin’.”

You’ve been asleep for much longer than you had anticipated. You still feel an incredible weight force itself on your body, but the lack of pain is just as noticeable. You almost hate to admit it.

“Maybe you were right.”

Sans turns his skull, his waking eye-lights trying to focus on you. His hand rises to brush your cheek. The touch is feather-light, but brilliant, sending lightning down your spine.

“bout what?”

“Everything, I dunno. Pick one,” you say, a hint of humor coloring your rough voice.

“not sure ‘bout that, to be honest,” he answers with a weak chuckle.

You tease gently, “You didn’t even use your tibia joke. Something must be on your mind.” You hear a soft exhale. Maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh, probably both.

“just… ‘m sorry tori yelled at ya,” he admits. “didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Your brow raises and you fall silent for a long moment. You turn to face him, grabbing his hand in the meantime and holding it close. While you didn’t care for being scolded, in a rare and not wholly selfless way, you do feel better that Sans feels some measure of regret for it. His apology tells you that he’s still on your side, whereas before, you began to feel the opposite. So at odds with each other since your attack, enough to make you feel sick, like the restless waves would never still. You hadn’t fought this much ever, really. You needed his support but he wasn’t willing to give it in the way you asked. In the way you thought you needed. You understand that all he wanted was to help you, and if that meant doing something differently, then it’s what he would do. Now, looking back, you realize you may not have been in the greatest state of mind to make any sort of rational decision on your own. It’s been a fucking mess from the start.

“I know. You were just trying to help.”

He squeezes your hand. “that’s all I wanted. you know that right?”

“Yeah. We’re on the same team, remember?” you say as you kiss his knuckles. He hums.

“same team,” he reaffirms. He looks back up at the ceiling while he says, “selfish reasons aside, i know you have a lot of shit to deal with now and being healed would just…be one less thing, ya know?”

“Well, I’ll definitely be able to focus on what has to happen now,” you agree.

He has a good point. You hadn’t even thought about that, hadn’t even let yourself get that far in the future. It seemed like you were stuck in limbo, waiting for the next axe to fall and to fell you good and dead. The feeling hasn’t really gone away, but it seems much more manageable now that you’re not going to have to worry about your face.

“Thanks, Sans,” you finally say.

The buzzing thoughts that have occupied you begin to multiply and surge. Your emotions are similarly affected, your heart aching and tears welling against your wishes. You move fast, throwing your arms around Sans’ body and tucking your head next to his skull. He responds almost as if he knew it was coming, not hesitating to hug you back, matching your strength bit by bit. Your soul pulses and yearns, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He presses you to him even more. You try to reign back these foreign yet familiar urgings, knowing that you’re not exactly thinking straight. You still so you can manage to take a few deep breaths. A laugh slips out and you feel more than hear Sans shake from a few chuckles underneath you. Though, you expect it could be from what just transpired as well.

“i love you,” he whispers, hands rubbing your back.

You smile, your lips grazing his neck. “Love you too.”

Then he asks, “speaking of things to do, whatdya gotta take care of?” The intimate moment you shared with him fractures and changes. Instead of a sense of peace at last, you receive sharp spikes of anxiety instead. What a nice gift.

You groan and push yourself up to sit cross-legged, though still keeping the blankets close. Sans keeps one of your hands for himself, moving his other arm to pillow his skull. He watches you, curious and concerned all at once. You don’t doubt he feels the stress that’s threatening you.

“Talk to the landlord and insurance company. The police again probably. Need to move out what’s left of my stuff too. Which isn’t much,” you add, softer.

“you’ll have help, no bones about it,” he says, his grin coming back.

“Thank you. For everything you guys are doing for me,” you say with a squeeze of his hand.

Now it’s Sans’ turn to sit up and slide close. He wraps his arms around you, comforting you just as much as himself. There’s been a feeling of overwhelming need between you and him this morning. Earlier, he wanted nothing more than to touch your soul, love it, cherish it in whatever way he knows how. In every way you deserve, because you deserve so much more than what you’ve been given recently. It takes a lot of his self-control to keep from calling it forth right here and now.

But it’s shattered when you make that decision for him.

You place his hand on the center of your chest and you share a look. You, inviting, and he, somewhat shocked. His wide, innocent stare makes you chuckle a bit.

“Just to look,” you say.

He nods in earnest. He could kiss you right now, because he had been silently hoping for this.

His hand warms and you feel that tug, that gentle nudge. That beckoning that always ends in the same place, with silvery sighs. That moonlit cloud slips out and coalesces in the space between you and Sans. There it is, that sigh. But your heart hammers and echoes in the deepest caverns of your mind.

Cracks.

They're small, some you can hardly even make out. But they all wind incoherent paths across the crystalline surface and you think it's the numerousness of them that truly sets dread in your heart. Your finger traces a madly long one, only becoming too easy to see as the green inside darkens.

“Sans,” you choke, worried to your core.

Sans’ voice cuts through, “it’s ok, babe. look at me.” You do. The tears peer around the bend again. His open and kind face gives you no reason to fear anything. “it’s normal. you’ve been through a lot lately. not everyone gets out unscathed.” His own finger traces above the same crack and you’re surprised to see the green respond. Small sparks of light vivify it and the not-quite fluid rushes against the surface, following the path led by him. “i’m just glad i still get to see it,” he adds in a hushed whisper.

His words help. You want to go farther, ache to, but part of you just wants to keep it close and heal. Nurse your wounds, inside and out. The gold and emerald agitate, stirring uncomfortably and Sans, sensing it, releases his hold. He wishes he could do more. But it can only be a wish right now. However, there is a feeling. Maybe you both can tell, though it lives right on the edge of the senses. It’s a shimmer in the woods that lie just out of sight.

_Soon_.

\-----

It’s well into the middle of the day when you pull back up to your apartment. The bulk of your morning had been spent on the phone, sometimes calm, sometimes yelling, nearly all of the time stressed. The only thing that got you through was drinking copious amounts of coffee and Sans by your side. It all made you wish for something stronger. During the moments of reprieve in between calls, you could tell he was becoming frustrated, too. More of his stemmed from not knowing the whole conversation or being able to respond to it, you think. Eventually, you were able to sort things out with your insurance and landlord that wouldn’t completely ruin you. It wasn’t your fault.

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you and the brothers leave the vehicles and step back inside your used-to-be home.

All the landlord had asked was for everything to be out. That’ll be harder than actually packing up what little you have left. As you look around, kind of at a loss where to start, you swear you can hear Sans’ bed calling for you.

“plan of attack?” Sans asks, slouched against the bannister in his hoodie. He has his sneakers on today. Papyrus is already bustling around, doing what you can’t decide to do.

“Getting there?” you say, hesitating. You cross your arms, about to give him a better answer when a shout rings outside.

“PUNK!”

You whirl around but not quickly enough. Your vision is a blur of blue and crimson, your breath wrung out by arms so strong you don’t believe anything could break their hold.

“Undyne?” you manage to eke out.

“Man, I heard you really let ‘em have it! That’s awesome! Save some for me though,” she growls through her laughter.

You peek over her shoulder and see Alphys standing by. She gives you a wave. “We’re r-really glad you’re o-o-ok.” Another pair of arms, considerably harder and bonier, pick you and Undyne up now and you laugh, your heart filling. You hug her and Papyrus hard.

The tears come when you see Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk duck inside. Frisk immediately runs to join in. Your laughing only builds and you do your best to hug them too. You and Sans lock eyes and something infinitely strong exchanges. His smile is the widest you’ve seen the past couple days.

When you pull yourself together and Papyrus and Undyne let you go, you clear your throat to say, “Thank you all for coming. You guys really didn’t have to.”

Frisk holds your hand while Undyne punches your shoulder, saying, “Sure we did!”

“Well…it means the world to me,” you say anyway. You hope they know you mean it.

“W-where should we start?” Alphys asks now, her tail twitching in anticipation as she looks about.

“Well, I need to pack my things and then clean the place,” you offer, still sorting out things in your head. You’re still reeling a bit from the unexpected surprise.

Toriel speaks up now, ever the organizer, “You gather your things. Sans will help with that as he knows what you will need as well. We shall do the rest, do not worry.”

You almost hug her right then and there. You need someone else to be the point person on this. It’s becoming so overwhelming, the way it is every time you move. The way it always is when you are faced with too many things and no guiding hand. Staring with blank, unseeing eyes at this wide minefield of sudden responsibility. Everyone nods all the same, knowing what they need to do. You do too, now, at least.

“Thank you. Pizza’s on me tonight,” you say, chuckling. Undyne and Frisk low five, crowing their excitement. They all scatter and begin downstairs, while you and Sans head up to your bedroom. His eyes had barely left you, and now that you’re together, his hand finds yours.

“This was you, wasn’t it?” you guess.

He shrugs and smiles, slow and good-natured. “you can see right through me. though i just let ‘em know when; asgore suggested it.”  

“Wow…. That’s really nice of him,” you say, a bit awed. “I’ll have to thank him later. But," you narrow your eyes roguishly, "I guess I’ll just have to settle for you now.”

You grin and step close, placing a lingering kiss on his cheekbone. It warms beneath your lips and you don’t have to see to know there’s a blue blush just below.

“Love you,” you whisper.

He hums and rattles, saying, “i know.” You chuckle and pull back to start your job.

“Maybe I should just call you Han from now on,” you tease.

“only if i get a millennium falcon, too,” he shoots right back.

In the end, it takes several hours, but not nearly as long had it just been yourself or even with Sans and Papyrus. You and Sans had gotten your personal belongings together frighteningly fast. Your whole life up to this point, just a modest collection of two luggage bags and two boxes. Nothing else was worth saving or salvageable. Those men really did their job. When you and he had finally put it all together and seen the meager size of it, Sans was there to keep you going and take your mind off of it with his jokes. They did a good job. You’d missed them. Missed smiling and laughing.

The rest of your time was spent hauling trash out while Sans helped with the more cumbersome things. Rather than maneuver furniture around awkwardly, he offered to just teleport them outside. You weren’t sure at first, not knowing the limits of what he can do. You didn’t want him to get hurt or something. But he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think he could handle it. He assured you of the same thing. It makes you curious as to how much he _can_ do. Though looking at the way he’s leaning on your truck, the dark circles under his sockets, and the tell-tale strain of his smile, you know he pushed himself more than usual. Perhaps more than he should have. You’ll make it up to him.

You thought it would be easy. Easy to forget this apartment, push it in the past where it belongs. It’s been long enough hasn’t it? Three days has to be more than enough to sever a part of you and leave it, bleeding out on the floor. No more crying. No more twists in your gut. You could turn your back and not bat an eye, glad to be rid of this painful memory. But as you close the door for the last time, you wish it was that easy. You can only hope the road your life is taking starts going back uphill. Preferably avoiding any trees or hairpin turns that could send you hurtling off the path without so much as a _Thanks For Visiting, Y’all Come Back Now Ya Hear_!

But Sans and Papyrus will be there. So will everyone else. They’re your family now. The brothers will do whatever they can to help you be at ease, you have no doubt. No—you have faith in them.

You just hope you’ll be able to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moving is The Worst (ﾉಠдಠ)ﾉ︵┻━┻
> 
> Tumblr: ollyollyoxenfreelitbm.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Deer SUCK
> 
> Again, leave a comment if you want, lemme know what ya think? I'm probably gonna continue it just because I have more ideas in my head, but who knows how long it'll go, especially if it's well-received. 
> 
> ONLY TIME WILL TELL


End file.
